' 


ill; 


^ 


f     j 


Within  the  Capes 


By 
HOWARD    PYLE 


New  York 

International  Association  of  Newspapers  and  Authors 
1901 


COPYRIGHT,  1885, 
BY  CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS. 


NORTH  RIVER  BINDERY  CO. 

PRINTERS  AND  BINDERS 

NEW  YORK 


TO    HIS    FRIEND 

ALFRED  LEIGHTON  HOWE 

THIS    BOOK    IS    DEDICATED 
BY 

THE  AUTHOR 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 


CHAPTER  I. 

/CERTAIN  members  of  Captain  Tom  Granger's 
\j  family  have  asked  him,  time  and  time  again, 
why  he  did  not  sit  down  and  write  an  account  of 
those  things  which  happened  to  him  during  a  cer- 
tain period  of  his  life. 

These  happenings,  all  agree,  are  of  a  nature  such 
as  rarely  fall  to  the  lot  of  any  man,  crowding,  as 
they  did,  one  upon  the  heels  of  another,  so  that  in 
two  years'  time  more  happened  to  Tom  Granger 
than  happens  to  most  men  in  a  lifetime. 

But  Captain  Granger  has  always  shaken  his 
head,  and  has  answered  that  he  was  no  writer  and 
that  a  pen  never  did  fit  nicely  betwixt  his  stiff 
fingers,  as  Mrs.  Granger  can  tell  them  if  they  will 
ask  her. 

Beside  this,  he  has  hitherto  had  his  affairs  to 
look  after,  so  that  he  may  be  able  to  leave  behind 
him  enough  of  the  world's  goods  to  help  his  chil- 

I 


2       ,<\  ;       ;  '.''WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

dren  and  his  children's  children  easily  along  the 
road  that  he  himself  found  not  over  smooth. 

Now,  however,  he  has  given  up  much  of  his 
business  to  the  care  of  his  sons,  who  are  mostly 
men  well  on  in  years,  with  families  of  their  own, 
and  who  are  discreet  in  the  management  of  things. 
Therefore,  having  much  more  leisure  time  upon  his 
hands  than  he  has  ever  had  in  his  life  before,  he 
will  undertake  to  do  as  he  has  been  asked,  and  to 
write  a  plain,  straightforward  story  of  his  adven- 
tures. This  he  does  with  much  diffidence,  for,  as  I 
have  said,  he  is  no  very  good  hand  with  the  pen 
and  the  ink-horn.  The  story  may  be  told  in  a 
rough  way;  nevertheless,  I  believe  that  many  of 
those  that  read  it  will  think  well  of  it,  having  a 
certain  tenderness  for  the  writer  thereof. 

I  am  furthermore  inclined  to  thus  take  upon 
myself  the  transcribing  of  the  history  of  these 
things,  because  that  Captain  Tom  Granger  is 
coming  fast  to  the  ending  of  his  life;  and,  though 
his  latter  days  may  be  warm  and  sunny,  like  a  late 
Indian  summer,  there  are  those  yet  to  come  in  a 
few  years  who  will  not  have  the  chance  to  hear  of 
these  tbmg$  from  his  own  lips.  Therefore,  as  there 
has  been  much  gossip  about  certain  adventures 
that  befell  him,  I  would  rather  that  they  should 
learn  of  them  under  mine  own  hand  than  from 
hearsay.  Truly,  things  get  monstrously  twisted 
in  passing  from  mouth  to  mouth,  and  by  the  time 
that  the  story  of  these  doings  has  passed  down 
through  three  or  four  generations,  the  old  gentle- 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  3 

man  might  be  turned  into  a  pirate  and  a  murderer, 
for  all  that  I  know,  which  would  be  a  pretty  state 
of  affairs. 

I  do  not  know  how  it  was  that  Tom  Granger  got 
the  title  of  captain,  for  the  highest  grade  that  he 
ever  reached  was  that  of  second  mate  of  the  Pri- 
vateersman  Nancy  Hazlewood.  However,  as  no 
one  in  Eastcaster  ever  had  held  so  high  a  grade  of 
the  like  nature  up  to  that  time,  I  suppose  that  the 
wonder  really  is  that  he  was  not  called  commodore, 
or  even  admiral. 

Any  one  in  Eastcaster  can  tell  you  where  he 
lives  ;  it  is  the  large  white  house,  with  the  porch  in 
front,  that  stands  well  back  from  the  road  under  the 
shadow  of  three  broad  maple  trees.  It  is  just 
across  the  way  from  the  Hicksite  Meeting-house. 
You  can  easily  tell  it  as  you  go  along  the  street, 
because  there  is  a  ship  in  full  sail  chiseled  in  relief 
on  the  stone  gate-post,  which  is  very  well  done 
indeed,  and  was  carved  by  William  Johnson,  the 
stone-cutter,  under  mine  own  direction  and  super- 
vision. 

I  will  say  here,  that  Captain  Granger  will  be 
always  glad  to  see  you  if,  at  any  time,  you  should 
chance  to  come  to  Eastcaster.  If  he  is  not  at 
home,  you  will  be  likely  to  find  him  playing 
chequers  or  backgammon  at  the  Black  Horse 
Tavern,  just  around  the  corner  of  Market  street, 
and  nearly  opposite  to  the  court-house. 

However,  that  is  neither  here  nor  there,  and  I  find 
that  I  am  wandering  from  the  point.  But  you  must 


4  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

excuse  and  overlook  that,  bearing  in  mind  that  it  is 
the  way  of  an  old  man,  who  has  done  a  great  deal  of 
talking  in  his  day.  I  thank  goodness  that  I  am  old 
enough  now  to  know  better  than  to  gossip  and 
talk  as  much  as  I  used  to  do,  and  am  rather  silent 
than  otherwise. 

Nevertheless,  I  promise  now  that  I  will  heave 
ahead  with  my  yarn,  though  it  may  be  that  I  will 
leave  some  things  untold  that  you  would  like  to 
hear,  being,  as  I  said,  no  great  talker,  in  which  case 
you  must  come  to  Eastcaster,  and  then  I  will  tell 
you  anything  that  you  may  want  to  know. 

I  will  not  enter  into  a  long  yarn  concerning  what 
happened  in  Tom  Granger's  life  before  the  year 
1812,  for  though  such  a  yarn  would  hold  within 
it  many  concerns  of  interest,  it  is  not  for  the  sake 
of  relating  them  that  I  have  thus  taken  my  pen 
betwixt  my  fingers.  It  was  late  in  the  spring  of 
that  year  (1812)  when  he  returned  home  after  a 
three  years'  cruise  to  the  East  Indies. 

I  think  that  there  is  no  joy  in  all  the  world 
like  that  of  getting  home  again  after  a  long  voyage, 
such  as  this  had  been.  I  do  not  know  but  that  it 
repays  one  for  all  the  sorrow  and  pain  of  leave- 
taking,  and  for  the  home-sickness  that  follows 
thereon.  Even  such  changes  as  have  happened 
betwixt  the  going  and  returning  do  not  seem 
amiss,  provided  that  they  have  not  brought  grief 
and  trouble  with  them. 

The  changes  that  had  occurred  since  Tom's 
departure  in  the  summer  of  1809  had  brought  no 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  5 

sadness  with  them.  When  he  had  gone  away,  he 
had  left  his  sisters,  Susan  and  Mary,  as  young  girls  ; 
the  former  sixteen  and  the  latter  fifteen  years  old. 
They  had  now  grown  into  a  pair  of  fine  young 
women  and  were  chits  no  longer.  This  was  the  first 
and  greatest  change  that  struck  Tom,  so  you  may 
see  how  little  had  happened.  The  folks  were  already 
beginning  to  tease  Susan  about  Will  Gaines,  who 
had  just  returned  from  Philadelphia,  where  he  had 
been  studying  law,  and  had  set  up  an  office  for 
himself  in  Eastcaster. 

The  next  day  was  Sunday,  or  First-day,  as  we 
call  it  in  Quaker  neighborhoods,  and  as  all  of  the 
family  were  going  to  meeting,  Tom  put  on  his 
best  toggery  to  go  with  them. 

It  was  a  beautiful,  bright  clear  day,  and  as  Tom 
stood  on  the  porch  waiting  for  Henry,  who  was  to 
go  with  him,  his  heart  swelled  within  him  with  the 
love  of  home.  It  seemed  sweet  to  him  to  look  on 
the  young  leaves  of  the  trees,  the  green  meadow- 
lands  and  the  richness  of  growing  wheat,  after 
seeing  nothing  for  months  but  a  wide  stretch  of 
troubled  waters ;  it  was  good  to  feel  the  balmy 
blowing  of  a  breeze  that  was  not  salt ;  to  hear  the 
singing  of  the  robin  and  the  chattering  of  the  wren ; 
the  crowing  of  the  cocks  and  the  lowing  of  the 
cattle,  and  not  to  have  in  his  ears  the  everlasting 
washing  and  gurgling  of  the  water  alongside. 

The  folks  use  to  ride  to  meeting  on  horseback 
in  the  old  times,  the  women  behind  the  men  on 
pillion  saddles.  But  Tom  was  a  sailor,  and  conse- 


6  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

quently  no  good  figure  on  horseback,  so  he  and 
Henry,  the  youngest,  set  off  ahead  of  the  rest  to 
foot  it,  for  the  homestead  farm  was  only  a  mile  and 
a  half  from  Eastcaster  meeting. 

The  meeting-house  looked  very  pleasant  where  it 
stood,  back  from  the  street  under  the  shadow  of 
the  two  great  elms  in  front  of  it.  The  old  meeting- 
house was  standing  then,  for  they  did  not  tear  it 
down  to  make  room  for  the  new  building  until  '32. 
The  present  building  is  larger  than  the  old  one  was, 
and  is,  no  doubt,  lighter  and  better,  and  more 
comfortable  in  many  ways ;  but  for  all  that,  I  have 
never  liked  it  as  well  as  the  old  black  and  red  brick 
meeting-house,  with  its  high  roof  running  up  to  a 
point  from  all  four  corners  and  topped  with  some- 
thing that  looked  like  a  belfry,  though  it  had  no 
bell  in  it,  of  course. 

In  the  old  days,  as  now,  when  the  weather  was 
warm  and  bright  and  pleasant,  the  men  used  to 
stand  for  a  while  around  the  door  of  their  side  of 
the  meeting,  talking  and  chatting  together  before 
they  went  into  the  building.  Such  a  group  was 
standing  on  the  grass  under  the  shadow  of  the  elm 
trees  as  Tom  and  his  brother  Henry  came  up  the 
steps  that  led  into  the  meeting-house  yard. 

Tom  knew  all  of  them,  and  they  came  forward 
and  shook  hands  with  him  and  welcomed  him 
heartily.  Will  Gaines  was  amongst  them,  for, 
though  he  was  not  a  member  of  the  Society  of 
Friends,  he  went  to  meeting  as  often  as  he  went 
anywhere  else.  It  might  have  been  that  he  came 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  7 

on  Susan's  account,  though  I  do  not  say  that  he 
did. 

He  was  the  first  to  recognize  Tom,  and  he  came 
forward  and  shook  hands  with  him  and  seemed  very 
glad  to  see  him.  A  young  man  usually  is  glad  to 
see  the  brother  of  the  young  woman  that  he  wants 
to  marry,  but  I  think  that  Will  really  was  pleased 
to  see  Tom,  for  he  and  Tom  had  been  dear  friends 
from  the  time  that  they  were  children  together. 
There  were  other  young  men  of  Tom's  age  amongst 
the  group :  John  Black,  Joseph  Sparks,  Henry 
Jackson  and  others.  They  too  came  forward  and 
shook  hands  with  him  and  seemed  glad  to  see  him, 
though  not  so  glad  as  Will  Gaines  had  been. 

Two  men  were  standing  by  the  open  door  of  the 
meeting-house,  talking  earnestly  together.  One  of 
them  was  Isaac  Naylor,  and  the  other  was  Mr. 
Edmund  Moor,  the  real  estate  agent.  As  these 
two  men  had  very  much  to  do  with  Tom's  life  at  a 
later  time,  it  may  be  well  that  I  should  give  you  a 
notion  of  them  now. 

Isaac  Naylor  was  a  young  man — not  over  thirty 
at  that  time,  I  should  think.  He  dressed  very 
plainly,  and  was  so  serious  of  deportment  that  I  do 
not  know  that  any  one  ever  saw  him  smile.  He 
never  jested  himself,  and  never  enjoyed  a  jest,  for 
he  was  too  practical  for  such  trivial  things.  It  was 
as  though  the  man  of  him  had  been  dried  into 
parchment  by  his  continued  self-repression.  He 
was  well  off  in  the  world,  for  his  father  had  died 
the  year  before,  and,  as  Isaac  was  the  only  son,  he 


8  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

had  inherited  all  the  property,  which  was  very 
large.  Although  such  a  young  man,  he  was  high 
in  the  meeting,  sitting  in  the  gallery  with  men  old 
enough,  in  some  cases,  to  be  his  grandfather. 

Mr.  Moor  was  not  a  member  of  meeting,  though 
he  attended  pretty  regularly.  He  was  a  large, 
fleshy  man,  not  exactly  fat,  but  full  looking.  He 
had  a  smooth,  goodly  face  and  straight  iron-grey 
hair,  brushed  straight  back  from  his  forehead  and 
behind  his  ears.  I  never  heard  him  say  an  unkind 
word  or  saw  him  in  anything  but  a  cordial  mood. 
He  was  always  full  of  jests  and  quaint  turns  of 
speech,  and  never  failed  to  shake  Tom  heartily  by 
the  hand  whenever  he  met  him;  yet  for  all  that 
Tom  did  not  like  him.  He  had  an  oily,  unctuous 
way,  that  was  not  pleasing  to  him;  he  was  always 
so  goodly  that  he  did  not  seem  sincere,  and  always 
so  cordial  that  it  did  not  seem  as  though  he  meant 
his  cordiality. 

Such  were  the  two  men  that  were  talking 
together  by  the  meeting-house  door,  and  each 
welcomed  him  in  his  own  manner. 

"  How  is  thee,  Thomas  ?"   said  Isaac,  dryly. 

"  Why!  It's  Thomas  Granger!  Bless  my  soul! 
Back  again  like  a  bad  penny,  eh?"  said  Mr. 
Moor,  and  he  shook  Tom  by  the  hand  with  great 
warmth. 

In  the  meantime,  Tom's  father  and  his  two 
brothers,  John  and  William,  came  over  from  the 
horse  shed,  where  they  had  been  hitching  their 
horses,  and  joined  the  group,  and  then  they  all 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  9 

went  into  the  meeting-house  together,  taking  their 
seats  on  the  hard  wooden  benches  within. 

That  morning  they  held  a  silent  meeting,  no  one 
speaking  for  all  the  hour  between  ten  and  eleven 
o'clock.  Now  and  then  the  wind  would  rush  in 
little  puffs  through  the  open  window  and  across  the 
gloom  of  the  building.  A  fly  buzzed  against  a 
window  pane,  and  once  a  robin  outside  burst  into  a 
sudden  gush  of  song. 

No  other  sound  broke  the  silence,  saving  for  the 
rustling  of  a  dress,  as  one  of  the  women  Friends 
would  move  in  her  seat,  or  the  restless  sighing  of 
some  poor  boy  in  the  back  part  of  the  building. 
The  overseers  sat  ranged  along  on  the  raised  bench 
facing  the  meeting,  and  amongst  them  was  Isaac 
Naylor.  All  of  them  sat  with  their  hats  on, 
motionless,  with  downcast  eyes,  buried  in  serious 
thought :  but  no  one  spoke. 

At  such  a  time  every  one  is  supposed  to  address 
a  sermon  to  his  own  heart,  but  I  am  very  much 
afraid  that  Tom  Granger  addressed  none  to  him- 
self, for  his  thoughts  flew  here  and  there  and 
everywhere,  and  his  mind  was  never  still  a  moment 
in  the  chase  of  them.  Now  and  then  he  shifted 
himself  uneasily  on  the  hard  wooden  bench,  trying 
to  find  a  more  comfortable  position  than  the  one  in 
which  he  was  sitting,  but  the  seats  in  Friends' 
meeting  were  not  made  with  a  thought  to  comfort 
in  those  days.  There  was  a  long  partition  that  ran 
down  the  length  of  the  meeting,  separating  the 
men's  from  the  women's  side. 


10  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

After  a  while  Tom's  eyes  wandered  over  this 
partition  in  a  way  that  they  had  no  business  to  do. 
It  was  toward  the  place  where  his  mother  and  his 
sisters  sat  that  his  eyes  rested  the  most,  but  it  was 
not  at  them  that  he  was  looking,  for  Patty  Penrose 
sat  between  his  mother  and  him. 

After  a  man  has  reached  the  age  of  four  and 
twenty,  it  becomes  a  continued  source  of  wonder  to 
him  how  the  little  girls  about  him  grow  up  into 
young  women.  You  leave  a  poor  lean  little  chit 
of  a  thing  ;  a  few  years  pass,  you  meet  her  and,  lo ! 
she  is  transmogrified  into  a  young  woman,  going 
her  sedate  way  with  very  different  thoughts  in  her 
head  than  when  you  saw  her  last.  It  seems  as 
though  it  were  only  a  week  or  two  since  you 
patted  her  upon  the  head  and  said  kind  things  to 
encourage  her ;  now  your  heart  shrinks  at  the 
thought  of  such  boldness,  and  you  feel  that  she 
needs  encouragement  no  longer. 

When  Tom  had  last  seen  Patty  Penrose,  three 
years  before,  he  left  her  just  such  a  little  chit  as  I 
have  spoken  to  you  of, — lean  and  not  graceful. 
She  used  to  come  over  now  and  then  to  play  with 
his  sister  Mary,  but  he  had  not  noticed  her  except- 
ing when  she  stayed  to  dinner  or  to  supper. 
Even  then  he  had  not  observed  her  very  closely, 
and  had  -not  had  much  to  say  to  her,  for  she 
was  too  shy  to  make  it  a  pleasure  to  him  to 
talk  to  her,  and  too  young  for  it  to  be  worth 
while  for  him  to  put  himself  out  to  amuse  her. 
He  would  give  her  a  nod  with  a  "How  is  thee, 


WITHIN  THE   CAPES.  II 

Patty?"  and  then  would  turn  his  mind  to  other 
things. 

Now,  when  he  first  looked  at  her  sitting  across 
the  meeting  beside  his  mother,  he  did  not  know 
her;  then  he  saw  first  one  little  thing  and  then 
another,  until  it  slowly  dawned  upon  him  that  it 
was  Patty  Penrose,  though  not  the  Patty  Penrose 
that  he  had  known  in  times  past.  At  first  he 
looked  with  wonder  and  interest  at  the  change  that 
had  come  in  three  years ;  but,  after  a  while,  his 
interest  took  a  very  different  shape  with  no  wonder 
about  it,  and  he  thought  that  his  sister  Mary's 
friend  was  a  great  deal  better  worth  looking  at  than 
when  he  had  last  seen  her,  for  Patty  had  grown 
into  a  very  pretty  girl, — a  very  pretty  girl,  indeed. 

She  sat  looking  calmly  before  her ;  but,  though 
she  seemed  sedately  unaware  of  his  presence,  as  is 
becoming  in  a  modest  girl,  I  have  not  a  grain  of 
doubt  that  she  knew  that  Tom  Granger  was  at 
meeting  that  day,  and,  maybe,  she  even  knew  that 
he  was  looking  at  her  at  that  moment. 

Her  head  was  uncovered,  for  she  had  worn  a 
broad  beaver  hat,  such  as  they  used  in  those  days, 
and  she  held  the  hat  in  her  lap.  She  sat  with  her 
side  turned  to  Tom,  and  it  made  his  heart  feel  very 
warm  as  he  looked  at  her  pale,  delicate  face,  the 
long  lashes  of  her  eyes,  the  smooth  roundness  of 
her  chin  and  throat,  and  the  soft  curling  of  the 
brown  hair  at  her  forehead  and  temples.  So,  as  I 
said,  he  was  preaching  no  sermon  to  himself  as  he 
sat  in  silent  meeting  that  day. 


12  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

At  length,  the  court-house  clock  around  the 
corner  of  Market  street  struck  eleven.  They  all  sat 
in  silence  for  a  minute  or  two  longer,  and  then  old 
Thomas  Winterapple  shook  John  Stidham  by  the 
hand,  and  meeting  was  broken.  After  that  they  all 
went  out  into  the  sunlight  and  the  open  air  again. 

Will  Gaines  went  over  to  where  the  young 
women  were  standing  talking  together,  and  said  a 
few  words  to  Susan,  and  Tom  followed  after  him. 

Patty  was  standing  beside  his  mother. 

"  Thomas,  this  is  Patty  Penrose,"  said  she,  turn- 
ing to  him;  "don't  thee  remember  Patty?" 

Tom  knew  that  the  color  was  rising  in  his  face ; 
knowing  it,  he  felt  very  uncomfortable,  and  that 
made  his  cheeks  burn  all  the  hotter.  It  was  a 
different  matter  talking  to  Patty  now  from  what  it 
had  been  three  years  ago.  Oh,  yes,  he  remem- 
bered Patty;  "How  is  thee,  Patty?"  said  he,  hold- 
ing out  his  hand  to  her.  Her  little  fingers  rested 
in  his  only  for  a  moment,  and  then  were  quickly 
withdrawn. 

"  I'm  pretty  well,  thank  thee,  Thomas,"  said  she. 

Then  there  was  a  space  of  silence,  during  which 
Tom  was  thinking  of  something  to  say.  This  was 
no  easy  thing  for  him  to  do  on  the  spur  of  the 
moment,  considering  how  little  he  knew  of  Patty 
and  her  ways.  He  stood  with  his  hands  clasped 
behind  him,  looking  at  her  and  waiting  for  a 
thought,  and  she  stood  looking  down  at  the  toe  of 
her  shoe.  Presently  she  raised  her  eyes  to  his  face 
for  a  moment. 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  13 

"Has  thee  just  come  back,  Thomas?"  said  she. 

"  Yes ;  I  came  back  yesterday  afternoon." 

"Thee's  been  gone  a  long  while  this  time,  hasn't 
thee  ?" 

"About  three  years." 

And  then  they  were  silent  again. 

Just  then  Isaac  Naylor  came  up  and  spoke  to 
Patty,  and  she  turned  partly  away  from  Tom  to 
answer  him.  It  seemed  to  Tom  that  it  was  a  relief 
to  her  to  talk  to  some  one  else  beside  him,  and  no 
doubt  it  was,  for  she  must  have  felt  easier  with 
Isaac  than  she  did  with  Tom,  knowing  him  so 
much  better.  After  this,  several  of  the  young  men 
came  up,  and  in  a  little  while  Patty  and  his  sister 
were  quite  surrounded  by  them,  and  were  pres- 
ently talking  and  laughing  at  a  great  rate,  about 
people  and  things  of  which  Tom  knew  little  or 
nothing.  Isaac  Naylor  stood  amongst  the  other 
young  men ;  he  did  not  talk  to  Patty  and  Mary  as 
they  did,  but  he  seemed  contented  to  remain  where 
he  was. 

At  last  Tom's  brother  Henry  plucked  him  by 
the  sleeve  of  his  coat,  "  Is  thee  ready  to  go  now, 
Thomas?"  said  he.  "Father  and  mother  have 
gone  and  I'm  ready  to  go  if  thee  is."  Henry  was 
too  young  yet  to  talk  to  the  girls  with  any  ease, 
and  so  the  waiting  was  no  pleasure  to  him. 

"Yes;  I  guess  I'm  about  ready,"  said  Tom.  He 
felt  that  he  had  been  awkward  and  ungainly  before 
Patty,  and  he  would  have  liked  to  say  a  word  or 
two  more  to  her  before  he  left  her  to  set  himselt 


14  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

straight  in  her  opinion.  But  he  saw  no  chance  for 
this  in  all  the  talk  and  laughter  that  was  going  on 
around  Mary  and  her,  so  there  was  nothing  left  for 
him  to  do  but  to  go. 

As  Henry  and  he  walked  along  the  turn-pike 
road,  numbers  of  Friends  passed  them  on  their  way 
homeward  from  meeting. 

There  was  a  clatter  of  hoofs  behind  them,  and 
old  Elihu  Penrose  came  riding  by  with  Patty  back 
of  him  on  the  pillion  saddle. 

"Woah!"  cried  he,  reigning  in  his  horse  when  he 
had  come  up  to  Tom  and  Henry.  "How  is  thee, 
Thomas  ?  I'm  glad  to  see  thee  back  again." 

"  I'm  glad  to  get  back  again,"  said  Tom. 

"  That's  right !  I  like  to  hear  a  young  man  say 
he's  glad  to  get  back  home  again, — it  sounds  well. 
Come  over  and  see  us  some  time." 

"  I  will,"  said  Tom ;  "  I'd  like  to  come  over  very 
much." 

"Very  well;  do.     Come  over  soon.     Farewell." 

Then  he  clicked  to  the  horse  and  rode  on,  turn- 
ing down  the  road  that  led  through  the  shady 
woods  to  the  old  mill. 

"  Patty  Penrose's  a  mighty  pretty  girl ;  ain't  she, 
Thomas?"  said  Henry. 

Tom  made  no  answer,  and  they  walked  on  in 
silence. 

At  dinner  time,  Patty  was  brought  up  as  a 
subject  of  talk. 

"  Don't  thee  think  she's  very  pretty,  Thomas  ?" 
Susan, 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  15 

"Well — I  don't  know,"  said  Tom,  hesitatingly; 
"n-not  so  very."  I  do  not  know  why  he  should 
have  answered  as  he  did,  but,  somehow,  he  did  not 
feel  like  saying  that  he  thought  Patty  was  pretty. 

"Well,  I  can't  help  thinking  as  thee  does  about 
it,  Thomas,"  said  Mary;  "I  love  Patty  Penrose 
very  dearly,  but,  I  must  say,  I  never  could  see  her 
beauty." 

"She's  the  prettiest  girl  In  the  neighborhood," 
said  William. 

"I  know  some  people  think  she's  pretty,"  said 
Mary,  "  but,  I  must  say,  I  don't  see  where  her 
beauty  lies.  Her  nose  isn't  good,  and  she  has 
hardly  a  bit  of  color  in  her  face.  She's  a  dear 
good  girl,  but  I  don't  think  she's  what  one  would 
call  handsome." 

"  Thee  isn't  of  the  same  way  of  thinking  as  the 
young  men,"  said  John.  "There  isn't  one  within 
ten  miles  of  Eastcaster  who  doesn't  think  that  she's 
the  prettiest  girl  in  the  township.  There  isn't  a  girl 
in  the  neighborhood  who  has  as  much  company 
as  she." 

"Nonsense,"  said  Susan;  "what  does  thee  know 
about  it,  John  ?  Leave  out  Isaac  Naylor  and 
John  Black  and  the  two  Sharpleys  and  she  doesn't 
have  any  more  company  than  other  people." 

"All  right,"  said  John,  who  had  an  ill  way  of 
holding  to  an  opinion  and  never  arguing  about  it, 
"  all  right,  have  thy  own  way ;  it  doesn't  make  any 
difference  to  me  ;  I  only  know  what  I  hear  the 
young  men  say  about  her." 


16  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

Then  Tom's  father  broke  into  the  talk  and  noth- 
ing more  was  said  about  Patty.  "  I  bought  a  new 
short-horn  bull  last  fall,  Thomas,"  said  he.  "We'll 
go  over  to  the  cattle-yard  after  dinner  and  take  a 
look  at  it,  if  thee  likes." 

So  presently  they  all  got  up  from  their  chairs, 
and  the  men-folks  went  over  to  the  barn-yard  to 
take  a  look  at  the  short-horn  bull. 

But  the  talk  at  the  dinner  table  had  not  pleased 
Tom,  though  I  do  not  know  why  he  should  have 
disliked  to  have  heard  that  Patty  had  a  great  deal 
of  attention  paid  her;  for  how  could  it  make  any 
difference  to  him  ? 


CHAPTER  II. 

AS  time  wore  along,  Tom  got  into  the  habit  of 
dropping  in  at  Penrose's  and  of  spending  an 
evening  now  and  then.  At  first  he  would  find  him- 
self there  once  in  every  ten  days  or  two  weeks  ;  in 
time  his  visits  became  more  and  more  frequent. 
Elihu  was  always  very  glad  to  see  him  and  Patty 
herself  seemed  pleased  at  his  coming.  I  think  that 
some  of  the  happiest  evenings  of  his  life  were  those 
spent  in  sitting  on  the  porch  of  the  old  mill-house 
in  the  long  summer  twilights — Elihu  and  he  smok- 
ing their  pipes,  he  telling  his  adventures  at  sea  and 
Patty  sitting  listening  to  him.  Often  some  one  of 
the  young  men  of  the  neighborhood  would  be  at 
the  house,  and  then  it  was  not  so  pleasant  for  Tom ; 
his  talk  would  cease,  and  after  a  little  while, 
perhaps,  he  would  arise  and  bid  them  farewell. 
Patty  and  her  visitor  would  usually  sit  apart  talk- 
ing and  laughing  together,  and  it  would  strike  Tom 
how  much  more  easy  she  seemed  in  the  company 
of  others  than  she  did  with  him.  More  than  once 
when  he  called  he  found  that  she  had  gone  out 
riding  with  one  of  these  young  men,  and  then  he 
and  Elihu  would  spend  the  evening  together,  and 

*  17 


1 8  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

the  old  man  would  seem  quite  contented,  for 
neither  Patty  nor  he  seemed  to  think  that  Tom's 
visits  were  meant  for  any  one  else  than  him. 

One  First-day  evening  Tom  mustered  up  courage 
to  ask  Patty  to  take  a  walk  with  him.  That  even- 
ing is  impressed  upon  his  mind  even  yet,  for  he  was 
very  happy.  There  was  a  dim  glow  in  the  sky  to 
the  westward,  and  the  road  stretched  away  grey  arid 
glimmering  between  the  blackness  of  the  banks 
and  bushes  alongside  of  it.  So,  walking  slowly 
and  talking  but  little,  they  came  to  the  bridge  just 
below  Whiteley's  barn,  and  there  they  stood  lean- 
ing on  the  parapet,  looking  up  the  stream  into  the 
black  woods  beyond,  from  which  came  the  many 
murmuring  whispers  of  the  summer's  night.  All 
the  air  was  laden  with  the  spicy  odor  of  the  night 
woods,  and  through  the  silence  the  sound  of  the 
rushing  and  gurgling  of  the  water  of  the  brook 
came  to  them  clearly  and  distinctly.  There  was  a 
bit  of  marshy  land  beyond,  over  which  flew  fireflies 
in  thousands,  here  gleaming  a  brilliant  spark  and 
there  leaving  a  long  trail  of  light  against  the  black 
woodlands  behind.  For  some  time  they  both 
leaned  upon  the  bridge  without  saying  a  word ;  it 
was  Patty  that  broke  the  silence  at  last. 

"  Does  thee  know,  Thomas,"  said  she,  "  that 
when  thee  first  came  home  I  was  dreadfully  afraid 
of  thee  ?  Thee  seemed  to  me  to  be  so  much  older 
than  I  was,  and  then  thee'd  seen  so  much  on  thy 
travtJs." 

"  Thee  aint  afraic]  of  me  now,  is  thee,  Patty  ?  " 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  19 

"  No,  indeed ;  it  seems  as  though  thee  might 
almost  be  a  cousin  of  mine,  I  know  thee  so  well. 
It  does  father  so  much  good  to  see  thee;  he's  never 
been  the  same  since  mother  died  till  now." 

There  was  a  moment  or  two  before  Tom  spoke. 

"  Perhaps  it  isn't  thy  father  I  come  to  see,  Patty," 
said  he,  in  a  low  voice.  He  leaned  over  the  edge 
of  the  bridge  as  he  spoke  and  looked  fixedly  into 
the  dark  rushing  water  beneath. 

Patty  made  no  answer,  and  Tom  was  not  sure  that 
she  heard  him.  Neither  of  them  said  another 
word  until  Patty  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "  I  guess  we'd 
better  go  home  now,  Thomas." 

Then  they  turned  and  walked  back  again  to  the 
old  mill.  Tom  opened  the  gate  for  Patty.  "  Fare- 
well, Patty,"  said  he. 

"  Won't  thee  come  up  and  see  father,  Thomas  ?  " 
said  she. 

"  Not  to-night." 

"  Farewell,  then." 

Tom  watched  her  until  she  had  gone  up  the 
porch  steps  and  was  hidden  by  the  vines  that  were 
clustered  about  it.  He  heard  Elihu  say,  "  Where's 
Thomas?"  but  he  did  not  hear  Patty's  answer; 
then  he  turned  and  walked  slowly  homeward. 

The  summer  passed,  the  fall  passed,  the  winter 
passed,  and  the  spring  time  had  come  again. 

Tom's  walk  with  Patty  seemed  to  have  broken 
through  the  smoothness  of  the  acquaintance  betwixt 
the  three. 

Elihu  had  never  been  the  same  to  him  since  that 


20  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

night ;  he  had  never  been  as  cordial  or  as  friendly 
as  he  had  been  before. 

Sometimes  it  seemed  to  Tom  as  though  Patty 
herself  was  growing  tired  of  seeing  so  much  of 
him.  At  such  times  he  would  vow  within  himself 
as  he  walked  homeward  that  he  would  never  call 
there  again,  and  yet  he  always  went  back  after  a 
while. 

So  things  moved  along  without  that  pleasant 
friendliness  in  their  acquaintanceship  until  that 
occurred  which  altered  the  face  of  everything. 

One  First-day  afternoon,  Tom  found  himself 
standing  on  the  porch  of  the  mill-house.  It  was  in 
the  early  part  of  April,  but  the  day  was  very  mild 
and  soft,  and  Elihu  and  Patty  were  sitting  on  the 
porch. 

"How  is  thee,  Thomas ?"  said  Elihu.  He  did 
not  take  the  pipe  from  his  lips  as  he  spoke,  neither 
did  he  ask  the  other  to  be  seated.  Tom  stood 
leaning  against  the  post  and  no  one  spoke  for  a 
while. 

"  Isn't  it  a  lovely  day?"  said  Patty. 

"Yes,  it  is,"  said  Tom;  "would  thee  like  to  take 
a  walk  up  the  road  as  far  as  Whiteley's  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  would,"  said  Patty;  "  I  haven't  been  away 
from  the  house  all  day." 

"  It's  very  damp ;  it's  too  damp  to  walk,"  said 
Elihu;  "besides,  thee's  got  thy  thin  shoes  on." 

"  But  we'll  walk  in  the  road,  father ;  I'll  promise 
not  to  go  off  of  the  road.  I'll  put  on  heavier  shoes 
if  thee  thinks  that  these  are  too  thin." 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  21 

"Very  well,  do  as  thee  pleases,"  said  Elihu, 
sharply;  "I  think  it's  too  damp,  but  I  suppose 
thee'll  do  as  thee  chooses."  Then  he  knocked  the 
ashes  out  of  his  pipe  and  went  into  the  house 
without  another  word,  shutting  the  door  carefully 
behind  him. 

"  I  don't  know  why  he  doesn't  want  me  to  go," 
said  Patty ;  "  it's  a  lovely  day  for  a  walk.  Wait  till 
I  go  in  and  speak  to  him,  maybe  he'll  change  his 
mind;"  and  she  followed  her  father  into  the  house. 

"I  can't  bear  this  any  longer;"  said  Tom  to  him- 
self. "I'll  have  it  over  this  afternoon,  or  I'll  never 
come  here  again.  I'll  ask  her  to  be  my  wife,  and 
if  the  worst  comes  to  the  worst  I'll  ship  for 
another  cruise." 

Presently  Patty  came  out  of  the  house  again. 
She  had  thrown  a  scarf  over  her  shoulders.  "Is 
thee  ready  to  go,  Thomas  ?"  said  she. 

"  Yes  ;  I'm  ready." 

There  was  very  little  talk  between  them  as  they 
walked  on  side  by  side,  for  Tom's  heart  was  too 
full  of  that  which  was  upon  his  mind  to  say  much 
with  his  lips ;  so  they  went  down  the  road  into  the 
hollow,  past  the  old  mill,  over  the  bridge  that 
crossed  Stony  Brook  just  beyond,  up  the  hill  on 
the  other  side,  past  Whiteley's  farm-house,  and  so  to 
the  further  crest  of  the  hill  that  overlooked  Rocky 
Creek  Valley  beyond.  There  they  stopped  and 
stood  beside  the  fence  at  the  roadside,  looking 
down  into  the  valley  beneath  them.  It  was  a  fair 
sight  that  lay  spread  out  before  their  eyes — field 


22  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

beyond  field,  farm-house,  barn  and  orchard,  all 
bathed  in  the  soft  yellow  sunshine,  saving  here  and 
there  where  a  cloud  cast  a  purple  shadow  that 
moved  slowly  across  the  hills  and  down  into  the 
valleys. 

"  Isn't  it  beautiful  ?"  said  Patty,  as  she  leaned 
against  the  rough  fence,  looking  out  across  the 
valley,  while  the  wind  stirred  the  hair  at  her  cheeks 
and  temples. 

"Yes;  it  is;"  said  Tom,  "it's  a  goodly  world  to 
live  in,  Patty." 

Then  silence  fell  between  them. 

"There's  the  old  Naylor  homestead,"  said  Patty 
at  last. 

"  Yes ;  I  see  it,"  said  Tom,  shortly,  glancing  as 
he  spoke  in  the  direction  which  she  pointed.  Then, 
after  a  while,  he  continued,  "What  a  queer  man 
Isaac  Naylor  is !" 

"I  don't  see  anything  queer  about  him,"  said 
Patty,  looking  down  at  the  toe  of  her  shoe. 

"  Well,  I  never  saw  a  man  like  him." 

"  He  is  a  very  good  worthy  man,  and  everybody 
respects  him,"  said  Patty,  warmly. 

"  Oh !  I  don't  deny  that,"  said  Tom,  with  a  pang 
at  his  heart 

"  Thee  couldn't  truthfully  deny  it  if  thee  would, 
Thomas,"  said  Patty. 

"I'm  only  a  rough  sea-faring  man,"  said  Tom. 
"  I  don't  know  that  any  one  respects  me  very  much." 
He  waited  a  moment,  but  Patty  said  nothing ;  then 
he  went  on  again  : 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  23 

"For  all  that,  I'd  rather  be  a  man  of  thirty  at 
thirty,  and  not  as  dead  to  all  things  as  though  I 
was  a  man  of  eighty.  Isaac  Naylor  is  more  like  a 
man  of  eighty  than  he  is  like  one  of  thirty.  No 
one  would  take  him  to  be  only  five  years  older 
than  I  am." 

"  I  don't  know  any  man  that  I  respect  as  much 
as  I  do  Isaac  Naylor,"  said  Patty.  "  I  don't  like 
to  hear  thee  talk  against  him  as  thee  does.  He 
has  never  spoken  ill  of  thee." 

"  Thee  need  never  be  afraid  of  my  saying  any- 
thing more  against  him,"  said  Tom,  bitterly;  "I  see 
that  thee  likes  him  more  than  I  thought  thee  did. 
I  might  have  known  it  too,  from  the  way  that  he  has 
been  visiting  thee  during  this  last  month  or  two." 

"Why  shouldn't  he  visit  me,  Thomas?" 

"The  Lord  knows!" 

She  made  no  answer  to  this,  and  presently  Tom 
spoke  again. 

"I'm  going  off  to  sea  before  long,  Patty,"  said  he, 
for  it  seemed  to  him  just  then  that  the  sea  was  a 
fit  place  for  him  to  be.  Patty  made  no  answer  to 
this ;  she  was  picking  busily  at  the  fringe  of  the 
scarf  that  hung  about  her  shoulders. 

"  How  soon  is  thee  going,  Thomas  ?  "  said  she  at 
last. 

"Oh!  I  don't  know;  in  three  or  four  weeks,  I 
guess.  It  doesn't  matter,  does  it?" 

Patty  made  no  reply. 

Tom  was  leaning  on  the  fence,  looking  out 
across  the  valley,  but  seeing  nothing.  His  mind 


24  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

was  in  a  whirl,  for  he  was  saying  unto  himself, 
"Now  is  the  time,  be  a  man,  speak  your  heart 
boldly,  for  this  is  the  opportunity !" 

Twice  he  tried  to  bring  himself  to  speak,  and 
twice  his  heart  failed  him.  The  third  time  that  he 
strove,  he  broke  the  silence. 

"  Patty,"  said  he.  His  heart  was  beating  thickly, 
but  there  was  no  turning  back  now,  for  the  first 
word  had  been  spoken. 

Patty  must  have  had  an  inkling  of  what  was  in 
Tom's  mind,  for  her  bosom  was  rising  and  falling 
quickly. 

"  Patty,"  said  Tom  again. 

"What  is  it,  Thomas?"  said  she,  in  a  trembling 
voice,  and  without  raising  her  head. 

Tom  was  picking  nervously  at  the  rough  bark 
upon  the  fence-rail  near  to  him,  but  he  was  looking 
at  Patty. 

"Thee  knows  why  I  have  been  coming  to  see 
thee  all  this  time,  doesn't  thee,  Patty  ?" 

"No,"  whispered  Patty. 

"Thee  doesn't  know?" 

"No." 

It  seemed  to  Tom  as  though  the  beating  of  his 
heart  would  smother  him:  "Because, — because  I 
love  thee,  Patty,"  said  he. 

Patty's  head  sunk  lower  and  lower,  but  she 
neither  moved  nor  spoke. 

Then  Tom  said  again,  "  I  love  thee,  Patty." 

He  waited  for  a  while  and  then  he  said :  "  Won't 
thee  speak  to  me,  Patty  ?  " 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  2$ 

"What  does  thee  want  me  to  say?"  whispered 
she. 

"Does  thee  love  me?" 

Silence. 

"Does  thee  love  me?" 

Tom  was  standing  very  close  to  her  as  he 
spoke ;  when  she  answered  it  was  hardly  above  her 
breath,  but  low  as  the  whisper  was  he  caught  it — 

"Yes." 

Ah  me !  those  days  have  gone  by  now,  and  I  am 
an  old  man  of  four  score  years  and  more,  but  even 
yet  my  old  heart  thrills  at  the  remembrance  of 
this  that  I  here  write.  Manifold  troubles  and  griefs 
have  fallen  upon  me  betwixt  then  and  now ;  yet, 
I  can  say,  when  one  speaks  to  me  of  the  weariness 
of  this  world  and  of  the  emptiness  of  things 
within  it,  "  Surely,  life  is  a  pleasant  thing,  when 
it  holds  such  joys  in  store  for  us  as  this, — the 
bliss  of  loving  and  of  being  loved." 

Half  an  hour  afterward,  Tom  was  walking  down 
the  road  toward  the  old  mill-house,  and  in  his  hand 
he  held  the  hand  of  his  darling — his  first  love — 
and  life  was  very  beautiful  to  him. 


CHAPTER  III. 

NOW,  although  the  good  people  of  Eastcaster 
were  very  glad  to  welcome  Tom  Granger 
home  again  whenever  he  returned  from  a  cruise,  at 
the  same  time  they  looked  upon  him  with  a  certain 
wariness,  or  shyness,  for  they  could  not  but  feel 
that  he  was  not  quite  one  of  themselves. 

Now-a-days  one  sees  all  kinds  of  strange  people ; 
the  railroad  brings  them, — young  men  who  sell 
dry-goods,  books  and  what  not.  They  have 
traveled  all  over  the  country  and  have,  or  think 
that  they  have,  a  world  more  of  knowledge 
about  things  in  general  than  other  people  who  are 
old  enough  to  be  their  father's  father.  Such  an  one 
I  saw  this  morning,  who  beat  me  three  games  of 
chequers,  which,  I  own,  did  vex  me;  though 
any  one  might  have  done  the  same,  for  I  was 
thinking  of  other  things  at  the  time,  and  my  mind 
was  not  fixed  upon  the  run  of  the  game.  One 
sees  plenty  of  such  people  now-a-days,  I  say,  but 
in  the  old  times  it  was  different,  and  few  strangers 
came  to  Eastcaster,  so  that  but  little  was  known 
of  the  outside  world.  The  good  people  liked  well 
enough  to  hear  Tom  tell  of  the  many  out-of-the.- 
26 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  27 

way  things  that  had  happened  to  him  during  his 
knocking  about  in  the  world;  at  the  same  time 
there  was  always  a  feeling  amongst  them  that  he 
was  different  from  themselves.  Tom  knew  that 
they  felt  this  way,  and  it  made  him  more  shy  of 
going  amongst  his  father's  neighbors  than  he  would 
otherwise  have  been.  Nothing  makes  a  man  with- 
draw within  himself  as  much  as  the  thought  that 
those  about  him  neither  understand  him  nor  care  to 
understand  him.  So  it  came  about  that  Elihu  Pen- 
rose  was  not  very  much  pleased  with  that  which  had 
passed  between  Tom  Granger  and  his  daughter. 

As  Tom  and  Patty  walked  home  hand  in  hand, 
hardly  a  word  was  said  betwixt  them.  When  they 
came  to  the  gate  in  front  of  the  mill-house  they  saw 
that  Elihu  was  not  on  the  porch. 

"  I'll  go  in  and  speak  to  thy  father  now,  Patty," 
said  Tom. 

"Oh,  Tom!  Will  it  have  to  be  so  soon?"  said 
Patty,  in  a  half-frightened  voice. 

"The  sooner  spoken,  the  sooner  over,"  said  Tom, 
somewhat  grimly,  for  the  task  was  not  a  pleasant 
one  to  do,  as  those  who  have  passed  through  the 
same  can  tell  if  they  choose. 

So  Tom  went  into  the  house,  and  Patty  sat  down 
on  a  chair  on  the  porch  to  wait  for  his  coming  out 
again. 

Tom  looked  in  through  the  half-open  door  of  the 
dining-room  and  saw  Elihu  sitting  in  his  cushioned 
rocking-chair  in  front  of  the  smouldering  fire, 
rocking  and  smoking  the  while. 


28  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

"May  I  come  in?"  said  Tom,  standing  uncer- 
tainly at  the  door. 

"  Yes ;  come  in,"  said  Elihu,  without  moving. 

"  I  have  something  to  tell  thee,"  said  Tom. 

"Sit  down,"  said  Elihu. 

Tom  would  rather  have  stood  up,  for  he  felt 
easier  upon  his  feet ;  nevertheless,  he  sat  down  as 
he  was  bidden,  leaning  his  elbows  on  his  knees 
and  gazing  into  the  crown  of  his  hat,  which  he 
held  in  his  hand  and  turned  about  this  way  and 
that. 

Old  Elihu  Penrose's  eyebrows  were  bushy  and 
thick,  and,  like  his  hair,  were  as  white  as  though 
he  had  been  in  the  mill  of  time,  and  a  part  of  the 
flour  had  fallen  upon  him.  When  he  was  arguing 
upon  religion  or  politics,  and  was  about  to  ask 
some  keen  question  that  was  likely  to  trip  up  the 
wits  of  the  one  with  whom  he  was  talking,  he  had 
a  way  of  drawing  these  thick  eyebrows  together, 
until  he  had  hidden  all  of  his  eyes  but  the  grey 
twinkle  within  them.  Though  Tom  did  not  raise 
his  head,  he  felt  that  the  old  man  drew  his  eye- 
brows together  just  in  this  manner,  as  he  looked 
upon  him  where  he  sat 

Not  a  word  was  spoken  for  some  time,  and  the 
only  sounds  that  broke  the  stillness  of  the  room 
was  the  regular  "creak,  creak"  of  the  rocker  of 
the  chair  on  which  Elihu  sat,  and  the  sharp  and 
deliberate  "tick,  tack"  of  the  tall,  old  eight-day 
clock  in  the  entry. 

Old  Elihu  broke  the  silence;   he  blew  a  thin 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  29 

thread  of  smoke  toward  the  chimney,  and  then  he 
said:  "What  is  it  thee  wants  to  say  to  me 
Thomas?"  And  yet,  I  have  a  notion  that  he 
knew  very  well  what  it  was  that  Tom  was  going  to 
tell  him. 

Then  Tom  looked  up  and  gazed  straight  into  the 
grey  twinkle  of  Elihu's  eyes,  hidden  beneath  their 
overhanging  brows.  "  I — I  love  thy  daughter,  " 
said  he,  "  and  she's  promised  to  be  my  wife." 

Elihu  looked  at  Tom  as  though  he  would  bore 
him  through  and  through  with  the  keenness  of  his 
gaze,  and  Tom  looked  steadfastly  back  again  at 
him.  He  felt  that  Elihu  was  trying  to  look  him 
down,  and  he  drew  upon  all  of  his  strength  of 
spirit  not  to  let  his  eyes  waver  for  a  moment.  At 
last  Elihu  arose  from  his  chair  and  knocked  the 
ashes  out  his  pipe  into  the  fire-place. 

Then  Tom  stood  up  too,  for  he  was  not  going  to 
give  the  other  the  advantage  that  a  standing  man 
has  in  a  talk  over  one  that  is  seated. 

"Thomas,"  began  Elihu,  breaking  the  silence 
again,  and  he  thrust  his  hand  into  his  breeches 
pocket,  and  began  rattling  the  coppers  therein. 

"  Well  ?"  said  Tom. 

"  I  take  it  thee's  a  reasonable  man  ; — at  least,  thee 
ought  to  be,  after  all  the  knocking  around  that 
thee's  done  " 

This  did  not  sound  very  promising  for  the  talk 
that  was  to  come.  "  I  hope  I'm  a  reasonable  man," 
said  Tom. 

"  Then  I'll  speak  to  thee  plainly,  and  without  any 


30  WITHIN'  THE  CAPES. 

beating  about  the  bush; — I'm  sorry  to  hear  of  this, 
and  I  wish  that  it  might  have  been  otherwise." 

"Why?" 

"I  should  think  that  thee  might  know  why, 
without  putting  me  to  the  pains  of  telling  thee. 
We're  a  plain  folk  hereabouts,  and  the  son's 
followed  in  his  father's  steps  for  a  hundred  and  fifty 
years  and  more.  I  suppose  that  it's  an  old- 
fashioned  way  that  we  have,  but  I  like  it.  I'd 
rather  that  my  daughter  had  chosen  a  man  that  had 
been  contented  with  the  ways  of  his  father,  and  one 
that  I  had  seen  grow  up  under  my  eye,  and  that  I 
might  know  that  I  could  rely  upon.  I've  seen  little 
or  nothing  of  thee,  since  thee  ran  away  to  sea,  ten 
or  twelve  years  ago." 

"  I  don't  see  why  that  should  weigh  against  me." 

"  Don't  thee  ?" 

"No.  My  trade  isn't  farming,  to  be  sure,  but 
such  as  it  is,  I  work  steadily  at  it.  I'm  sober;  I 
don't  drink,  and  I  trust  that  I'm  no  worse  than  most 
men  of  my  age." 

"That  may  all  be  true;  I  know  nothing  of  thy 
habits,  but  this  I  do  know, — that  thee  ran  away 
from  home  once;  what  surety  have  I  that  thee 
won't  do  it  again  ?"  Tom  made  a  motion  as  though 
to  interrupt  him,  but  Elihu  held  up  his  hand;  "  I 
know!  I  know!"  said  he;  "thee  don't  feel,  just 
now,  as  though  such  a  thing  could  happen;  but  my 
observation  has  led  me  to  find  that  what  a  man  will 
do  once,  he  may  do  again.  Besides  all  this,  thy 
trade  must  unsettle  thy  life  more  or  less;  thee 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  3* 

knows  the  old  saying, — '  a  rolling  stone  gathers  no 
moss.'  " 

"  I  don't  know  why  a  man  should  want  to  stay 
long  enough  in  one  place  to  get  moss-grown," 
said  Tom. 

"That  is  all  very  well,"  said  Elihu  Penrose,  "but 
we  hereabouts  have  been  content  to  grow  green 
in  the  same  place  that  our  fathers  grew  green 
before  us.  So,  I  tell  thee  plainly,  I  wish  that  Patty 
had  chosen  some  one  that  I  know  better  than  I  do 
thee.  Of  course,  I  shan't  bridle  her  choice,  but  I 
wish  that  it  had  been  Isaac  Naylor.  I  believe  that 
she  would  have  chosen  him  if  thee  hadn't  come 
home  amongst  us." 

There  was  a  time  of  silence  between  them  in 
which  both  were  sunk  deeply  in  thought;  then 
Tom  spoke  very  bitterly :  "  I  see  thee  don't  like 
me." 

"Thee's  wrong  to  say  that,  Thomas,"  said  Elihu ; 
"  I  have  no  dislike  for  thee  at  all." 

"  It  looks  very  much  as  though  thee  had." 

"I  don't  see  that  at  all.  I  want  to  see  my 
daughter  well  settled  in  the  world, — that's  all." 

"I  should  think  that  thy  daughter's  happiness 
would  weigh  more  with  thee  than  anything  else." 

"It  does,"  said  Elihu,  somewhat  sternly,  "and  I 
hope  that  I  shall  know  what  is  best  for  her  happi- 
ness without  being  taught  by  any  man,  young  or 
old." 

"  I  had  no  thought  to  teach  thee." 

Silence  followed  this,  till,  after  a  while,  Elihu 


32  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

spoke  again.  "However,"  said  he,  "all  this  is 
neither  here  nor  there;  Patty's  chosen  thee  from 
amongst  the  rest,  and  she  must  lie  upon  the  bed 
that  she's  made  for  herself,  for  I  don't  see  that  I 
can  justly  interfere.  I  can  only  make  myself  sure 
that  thee  is  able  to  support  a  wife,  before  thee 
marries  her.  How  much  does  thee  make  a  year?" 

"About  five  hundred  for  pay.  Maybe  I  could 
make  a  couple  of  hundred  more  in  the  way  of 
trade  here  and  there,  if  I  keep  my  wits  about  me." 

"  Does  thy  trade  bring  thee  in  forty  dollars  a 
month  now?" 

"  About  that." 

Elihu,  sunk  in  thought,  looked  at  Tom  for  a 
while,  without  speaking.  Tom  stood  looking  at 
his  finger-tips,  very  unhappy  and  troubled  in  his 
mind.  After  a  while  the  absent  look  left  Elihu 's 
eyes,  and  he  spoke  again. 

"  Thomas,"  said  he,  "  I  have  no  wish  to  be  hard 
on  thee,  or  any  man  in  the  world.  It's  not  thee, 
but  thy  trade,  that  don't  please  me.  If  thee  was 
living  quietly  at  home,  like  thy  brothers  John  and 
William,  I'd  be  glad  to  give  my  daughter  to  thy 
father's  son,  for  he  and  I  have  been  old  friends, 
and  have  known  each  other  since  we  were  boys 
together.  However,  I'm  not  prepared  to  say  that 
thee  shall  not  marry  Patty,  so  I'll  make  a  proposi- 
tion to  thee.  If  thee'll  show  me  seven  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars  of  thy  own  earning  at  the  end  of  a 
year's  time,  I  am  willing  that  thee  shall  have  her. 
Is  that  fair?" 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  33 

"  Yes  ;  I  suppose  it  is,"  said  Tom. 

"  Very  well.  Show  me  seven  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars  at  the  end  of  a  year's  time  from  to-day,  and 
I'll  give  thee  leave  to  marry  Patty.  Farewell." 

"  May  I  see  Patty  now?" 

"  I  reckon  so.  There's  no  reason  that  thee 
shouldn't  see  her  that  I  know  of." 

Then  Tom  left  the  room.  He  found  Patty  sitting 
on  the  porch  when  he  went  out.  He  was  feeling 
very  bitter,  for  his  talk  with  Elihu  had  not  been  of 
the  pleasantest  kind.  It  seemed  to  have  taken 
much  of  the  joy  out  of  his  new  happiness,  for  the 
grudging  words  of  Elihu's  consent  had  stung  his 
pride  very  sharply.  Therefore  there  was  a  smack 
of  bitterness  in  his  joy  that  spoilt  the  savor  of  the 
whole.  He  sat  down  by  Patty  without  a  word,  and 
began  rubbing  his  palm  slowly  over  the  end  of  the 
arm  of  the  chair  on  which  he  was  sitting,  looking 
down  at  it  moodily  the  while.  It  was  both  weak 
and  selfish  in  him  to  give  way  to  such  feelings  at 
such  a  time,  but  love  is  a  subtle  joy  that  only  one 
false  chord  will  jar  the  whole  out  of  tune,  and,  for 
the  time,  there  will  be  discord  in  the  heart. 

Patty  sat  looking  at  him,  as  though  waiting  for 
him  to  speak. 

"  Thy  father  don't  seem  much  pleased  with  this, 
Patty,"  said  he,  at  last. 

"  Never  mind,  Tom,"  said  Patty,  and  her  little 
hand  slid  over  and  rested  softly  upon  his  own ; 
"  he'll  like  it  when  he  is  more  used  to  the  thought 
of  it.  Father's  queer,  and  sometimes  harsh  in  his 

3 


34  tylTHIN  THE  CAPES, 

ways,  but  his  heart  is  all  right.  No  one  could  be 
more  kind  and  loving  than  he  is  to  me.  When  he 
finds  how  dear  thee  is  to  me,  he'll  like  thee  for  my 
sake,  if  for  nothing  else,  After  a  while  he  will 
be  as  proud  of  thee  as  though  thee  were  his  own 
son." 

"  I  hope  that  he  will  like  me  better,  as  time  goes 
on,"  said  Tom,  but  the  tone  of  his  voice  said,  "  I 
don't  believe  he  will." 

*  "Yes;  his  liking  will  come  all  in  good  time, 
Tom ;  "  then,  very  softly,  "  Isn't  thee  happy,  Tom  ?" 

"Yes;  I'm  happy,"  said  Tom,  but  in  truth,  his 
words  belied  his  thoughts  a  little,  and  his  voice,  I 
think,  must  have  somewhat  belied  his  words. 

"Tom,"  said  Patty,  and  he  looked  up.  She 
looked  bravely  and  lovingly  into  his  eyes ;  "  I  am 
very  happy,"  said  she,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  God  bless  thee,  Patty !"  said  Tom,  in  a  voice 
that  trembled  a  little;  "thee's  a  good  girl, — too 
good  a  girl  for  me.  I'm  afraid  I'm  not  worthy  of 
thee." 

"I'm  satisfied,"  said  Patty,  quietly.  "Tell  me; 
what  did  father  say  to  thee,  Thomas  ?" 

Then  Tom  told  all  that  had  passed,  and  the 
telling  of  it  seemed  to  blow  away  the  dark  clouds 
of  his  moodiness ;  for,  as  he  talked,  it  did  not  seem 
to  him  that  the  old  man's  words  had  been  as  bitter 
as  he  had  felt  them  to  be  at  the  time.  After  all,  he 
had  said  nothing  but  what  he  should  have  said, 
considering  that  it  behooved  him  to  see  his  daughter 
well  settled  in  the  world. 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  35 

earn  seven  hundred  and  fifty  dollars 
in  a  year's  time,  can't  thee,  Thomas  ?" 

"I  hope  so." 

"  Then  it'll  only  be  waiting  a  year,  and  that  isn't 
a  long  time,  Tom,  is  it?  Thee'll  find  me  just  the 
same  when  thee  comes  back  again."  Patty  talked 
very  bravely; — I  believe  that  she  talked  more 
bravely  than  she  felt,  for  her  eyes  were  bright  with 
tears,  beneath  the  lids. 

"It's  pretty  hard  to  have  to  leave  thee  so  soon," 
said  Tom.  "  I'll  have  to  leave  thee  soon  if  I'm  to 
earn  all  that  money  in  a  year's  time." 

Both  were  sunk  in  thought  for  a  while.  "  How 
long  will  it  be  before  thee  starts,  Tom  ?"  said  Patty, 
presently. 

"  Not  longer  than  a  week,  I  guess." 

Patty  looked  at  him  long  and  earnestly,  and  then 
the  tears  brimmed  in  her  eyes.  Poor  girl !  What 
happiness  it  would  have  been  to  her,  if  she  could 
have  had  Tom  with  her  for  a  while,  while  their  joy 
was  still  fresh  and  new.  The  sight  of  her  tears 
melted  away  all  the  little  bitterness  that  was  still  in 
Tom's  heart;  he  drew  her  to  him,  and  she  hid  her 
face  in  his  breast  and  cried.  As  he  held  her 
silently,  in  his  arms,  it  seemed  to  him  that  their 
love  had  not  brought  them  much  happiness,  so 
far. 

After  a  while,  she  stopped  crying,  but  she  still 
lay  with  her  face  on  his  shoulder. 

As  Tom  walked  home  that  afternoon,  he  met 
.Isaac  Naylor  coming  down  the  mill-road  from  the 


36  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

turnpike.  He  knew  that  Isaac  was  going  straight 
to  Penrose's  house. 

"How  is  thee,  Thomas?"  said  he,  as  they  passed 
one  another. 

Tom  stared  at  him,  but  said  never  a  word.  He 
turned  and  looked  after  Isaac  as  the  Friend  walked 
briskly  down  the  road  that  led  through  the  woods 
to  the  mill. 

"Never  mind,  friend  Isaac,"  said  he,  half-aloud, 
"  the  father  may  like  thee  better  than  he  does  me, 
but  the  daughter's  mine."  A  thrill  darted  through 
his  heart  as  he  said  this,  for  it  made  him  realize 
that  she  was  indeed  his,  and  his  alone.  It  was  the 
last  time  that  he  saw  Isaac  for  a  year  and  a  half. 

Tom  went  straight  to  his  mother  and  told  her 
everything.  A  mother  is  nearer  to  her  son  in  such 
matters  than  a  father,  for  there  is  more  in  a  woman's 
sympathy  than  there  is  in  a  man's.  If  he  had  had 
any  trouble  in  regard  to  money  matters,  he  would, 
no  doubt,  have  gone  to  his  father;  but  troubles 
like  these  that  were  upon  him  were  more  fitted  for 
his  mother's  ears. 

"  I  wish  thee'd  never  run  away  to  sea,"  said 
Tom's  mother. 

"I  wish  so  too,"  said  Tom;  "but  it  can't  be 
helped  now.  I  did  run  away  to  sea,  and  there's  an 
end  of  it." 

"  Can't  thee  find  some  way  of  making  a  living  at 
home  ?  Maybe  Elihu  Penrose  would  like  thee 
better  than  he  does  if  thee  could  stay  at  home,  as 
other  young  men  do." 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  37 

"  How  can  I  make  a  living  at  home  ?  "  said  Tom, 
bitterly.  "  Can  thee  tell  me  of  any  way  to  make 
it?" 

"  No ;  but  something  might  turn  up." 

"  I  can't  wait  for  the  chance  of  something  turning 
up.  I  have  seven  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  to  make 
in  twelve  months'  time." 

Neither  of  them  spoke  for  a  while.  Tom  sat 
beside  his  mother,  and  she  was  holding  his  hand 
and  softly  stroking  it  the  while. 

"  Mother,"  said  Tom,  at  last. 

"Well,  son?" 

"  Does  thee  know  what  I've  pretty  well  made  up 
my  mind  to  do  ?  " 

"What?" 

"  To  go  to  Philadelphia  on  the  stage  to-morrow 
morning,  and  to  take  the  first  berth  that  I  can  get." 

"  Oh,  Thomas  !  thee  wouldn't  go  so  soon,  surely ! 
What  would  Patty  do?" 

"Patty  would  have  to  bear  it,  mother.  She'll 
have  to  bear  it,  anyhow.  It'll  be  just  as  hard  to 
leave  to-morrow  week  as  it  will  to-morrow.  The 
sooner  I  leave  the  sooner  I'll  be  back,  thee  knows." 

All  this  was  very  reasonable,  but,  nevertheless, 
his  heart  failed  him  at  the  thought  of  leaving.  "  Of 
course,"  he  burst  out,  after  a  while,  "  of  course,  it's 
as  hard  for  me  to  go  as  it  is  for  her  to  have  me  go." 

"  I  don't  know  that,  Thomas,"  said  his  mother,  in 
a  trembling  voice.  "  Thy  life  will  be  full  of  work 
and  change.  Patty  will  have  nothing  to  do  but  to 
think  of  thee." 


38  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

"  Well,  all  the  same,  its  hard  to  leave  her,  and 
the  knowledge  that  she  will  suffer  don't  make  it 
any  the  easier  for  me." 

He  got  up  and  began  walking  restlessly  up  and 
down  the  room.  Presently  he  stopped  in  front  of 
his  mother. 

"Yes,  mother,"  said  he,  "I'll  go  on  the  stage 
to-morrow  morning.  There's  no  use  putting  it  off 
any  longer,  and  I'd  be  a  coward  to  do  so." 

Then  his  mother  put  her  handkerchief  to  her 
face,  and  the  tears  that  she  was  keeping  back  came 
very  freely. 

The  next  morning  at  half-past  seven  o'clock  Tom 
knocked  at  the  door  of  Elihu  Penrose's  house. 
The  mill-house  was  about  three-quarters  of  a  mile 
from  the  turnpike,  and  as  he  had  to  meet  the  stage 
there  about  eight  o'clock,  he  had  only  a  few  minutes 
in  which  to  say  farewell. 

He  walked  straight  into  the  dining-room.  Patty 
was  busy  putting  away  the  breakfast  dishes,  and 
Elihu  sat  at  his  old  brass-handled  desk,  footing  up 
his  accounts.  He  looked  up  as  Tom  came  in,  and 
the  color  flew  into  Patty's  cheeks. 

"Thee's  beginning  thy  courting  early  in  the 
morning,  Thomas,"  said  Elihu,  dryly. 

Tom  vouchsafed  no  answer  to  this.  He  stood 
leaning  against  the  door-frame,  and  his  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  Patty. 

"  I'm  going  to  leave  home  this  morning,"  said  he. 

Neither  of  the  three  spoke  for  a  moment  or  two. 
Tom  stood  looking  at  Patty,  his  hands  clasped  in 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  39 

front  of  him,  feeling  unutterably  miserable.  Elihu 
had  arisen  from  his  chair,  and  he  and  Patty  were 
gazing  at  Tom,  surprised  at  the  suddenness  of  what 
he  had  told  them.  Then  Elihu  came  forward  and 
laid  his  hand  on  Tom's  shoulder. 

"  Thomas,"  said  he,  "  does  thee  mean  that  thee 
is  going—" 

"  I  mean  that  I'm  going  to  leave  Eastcaster  for  a 
year,"  said  Tom. 

"  This  is — this  is  very  sudden,  Thomas,"  said  he. 

Tom  nodded  his  head. 

"  Come,  Thomas ;  I  had  no  wish  to  be  harsh 
with  thee  yesterday,"  said  the  old  man.  "  I  don't 
want  to  push  thee  to  the  wall.  This  is  very  sud- 
den. Put  off  thy  going  for  a  week  or  two.  Look 
here — even  if  thee  don't  bring  me  the  seven  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars  just  at  the  end  of  the  year,  I  won't 
count  it  against  thee." 

"  It's  too  late  now,"  said  Tom.  "  My  chest's 
packed,  and  father's  going  to  put  it  on  the  stage 
for  me.  I'll  not  be  unmanly  and  put  off  the  going, 
now  that  everything  is  fixed  for  it.  If  I'd  have 
known  how  thee  felt  yesterday,  I  don't  deny  that  I 
might  have  stayed  a  little  while  longer.  But  it 
won't  do  to  stop  now  that  I've  started." 

All  this  he  spoke  without  looking  at  Elihu. 
Elihu  took  his  hand  from  Tom's  shoulder.  He 
stood  for  a  moment  as  though  he  were  about  to  say 
something  farther;  then  he  slowly  picked  up  his 
hat  and  left  the  room,  and  Tom  and  Patty  were 
alone, 


40  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

In  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  the  old  man  came 
back  again.  Tom  looked  up  at  the  clock.  It  was 
a  quarter  to  eight,  and  he  knew  that  the  time  was 
come  for  him  to  go.  Patty  and  he  had  been  sitting 
on  the  sofa,  holding  one  another's  hand.  They  had 
been  silent  for  some  time,  and  they  both  arose 
without  a  word. 

Tom  stood  looking  long  and  earnestly  at  Patty. 
Her  face  was  bowed  upon  her  breast.  "  Patty,  my 
darling,"  whispered  he,  and  then  she  looked  up. 

Her  eyes  were  brimming  with  the  tears  that  she 
had  kept  so  bravely  hidden  until  now,  and  then 
two  bright  drops  ran  slowly  down  her  cheeks. 

"  Farewell,  my  darling,"  murmured  he,  in  a  low, 
broken  voice.  He  drew  her  to  him,  and  their  lips 
met  in  one  long  kiss.  Then  he  turned,  and  ran 
out  of  the  house.  He  did  not  say  farewell  to 
Elihu,  for  he  could  not  have  spoken  the  words,  if 
he  had  tried  to  do  so. 

Ah,  me  !  The  searching  pain  of  such  a  parting ! 
Surely,  the  Good  Father  would  never  have  put  us 
on  this  world  to  live  the  life  here,  were  it  not  that 
there  is  a  world  and  a  life  to  come  wherein  such 
pajtings  shall  never  be.  He  hath  given  that  the 
birds  of  the  air  and  the  beasts  of  the  field  shall  not 
suffer  dread  of  grief  to  come,  and  but  little  sorrow 
for  things  gone  by.  Why,  then,  should  He  give  it 
to  us,  His  goodliest  creatures,  to  bear  these  things, 
if  nothing  of  good  or  evil  was  to  come  of  such 
suffering  hereafter  ? 


CHAPTER  IV. 

rPHESE  things  happened  in  the  spring  of  '13, 
1  and  the  war  with  England  was  in  full  swing. 
We  thought  that  we  knew  a  great  deal  about  the 
war  at  Eastcaster,  but  we  really  knew  little  or 
nothing  of  it. 

The  Philadelphia  stage  brought  down  the  Ledger 
from  that  town  three  times  a  week,  and  Joseph 
Anderson,  the  teacher  at  the  Friends'  school, 
would  read  it  aloud  at  the  "Black  Horse"  tavern 
(it  was  the  "Crown  and  Angel"  then)  in  the 
evening.  A  great  many  came  to  hear  the  news, 
and  it  was  said  that  the  tavern  did  a  driving  busi- 
ness at  the  time ;  for,  of  course,  no  one  could  come 
and  sit  there  all  evening  and  drink  nothing. 

The  folks  talked  with  great  knowledge  about  the 
war ;  some  of  them  so  wisely  that  it  was  a  pity  that 
poor  President  Madison  did  not  have  the  chance  to 
hear  them. 

The  truth  of  the  matter  was  that  Eastcaster  was 
too  far  away  from  deep  water  to  feel  the  full  heat 
and  excitement  of  the  trouble. 

The  part  that  interested  Tom  the  most  was  the 
news  that  came  now  and  then  of  the  great  sea 

4* 


42  WITHIN  THE  CAPE& 

battles;   that  being  the  year  that  the   noble   old 
Constitution  did  her  best  fighting. 

When  Tom  Granger  came  to  Philadelphia,  he 
found  matters  at  a  very  different  pass  from  what 
they  were  in  Eastcaster,  for  there  was  talk  just  at 
that  time  of  Commodore  Beresford  sailing  up  the 
river  to  bombard  the  town;  so  Tom  found  the 
streets  full  of  people  and  everything  in  great 
fervent,  as  it  had  been  for  some  time  past 

Just  outside  of  the  town,  the  stage  passed  near 
to  where  two  regiments  of  militia  were  encamped, — 
one  of  them  not  far  from  Grey's  Ferry. 

The  next  morning  after  Tom  came  to  Philadel- 
phia, he  called  at  the  office  of  old  Mr.  Nicholas 
Lovejoy,  who  was  the  owner  of  the  ship  in  which 
he  had  last  sailed.  It  was  the  Quaker  City,  and 
Tom  had  had  the  berth  of  third  mate  aboard  her, 
which  was  a  higher  grade  than  he  had  ever  held  up 
to  that  time. 

Mr.  Lovejoy,  beside  being  the  owner  of  two 
good  ships  himself,  one  of  which,  Tom  had  reason 
to  think,  was  then  lying  at  the  docks,  had  a  great 
deal  of  influence  with  other  merchants  and  ship 
owners.  He  had  always  been  very  friendly  to  Tom, 
and  had  said  pleasant  things  of  him  and  to  him  more 
than  once,  so  Tom  had  great  hopes  of  getting  a 
berth  through  him  without  much  loss  of  time. 

His  wish  was  to  ship  to  the  West  Indies,  if  he 
could,  as  that  did  not  seem  so  far  away  from  home. 

Mr.  Lovejoy  was  at  his  desk  when  Tom  came 
into  the  office;  a  great  pile  of  letters  and  papers 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  43 

were  in  front  of  him,  which  he  was  busy  in  looking 
over.  He  shook  hands  cordially  with  the  young 
man  and  bade  him  be  seated.  Tom  told  him  what 
he  wanted,  and  Mr.  Lovejoy  listened  to  him  very 
pleasantly.  When  he  was  done,  the  old  gentleman 
said  frankly  that  there  was  a  poor  chance  of  his 
getting  any  berth  just  then,  for  that  no  shipping 
was  being  done,  the  Delaware  having  been 
blockaded  since  the  first  of  the  year. 

Mr.  Lovejoy  did  not  know  at  that  time  that  the 
blockade  had  been  raised,  for  it  was  not  until  a 
week  or  so  afterward  that  the  despatch  came  to 
Philadelphia  telling  how  Beresford  had  tried  to 
land  for  water  at  Lewestown,  in  Delaware,  and  not 
being  able  to  do  so,  had  given  up  the  whole  busi- 
ness as  an  ill  piece  of  work  and  had  sailed  away 
to  the  Bermudas. 

Mr.  Lovejoy  furthermore  told  Tom  that  there 
were  three  privateers  being  fitted  up  at  the  docks, 
one  of  which  was  about  ready  to  sail. 

In  those  days  there  was  a  great  deal  of  feeling 
against  privateering,  and  I  cannot  say  that  it  was 
altogether  ill-grounded,  for  some  very  cloudy  things 
were  done  by  certain  vessels  that  sailed  under 
letters. of  marque. 

,  Mr.  Lovejoy. was  a  fine  looking  old  gentleman, 
with  a  very  red  face  and  very  white  hair,  which  was 
tied  behind  into  a  queue  with  a  black  silk  ribbon. 
He  was  never  seen  dressed  in  anything  but  plain 
black  clothes  with  bright  silver  buttons,  black  silk 
stockings  and  pumps.  His  frilled  shirt  front  stogd 


44  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

out  like  a  half  moon  and  was  stiffly  starched  and 
as  white  as  snow. 

After  Tom  and  he  had  talked  a  little  while 
together,  he  arose,  and  going  to  a  closet  in  the  side 
of  the  chimney  place,  brought  out  a  decanter  of 
fine  old  sherry  and  two  glasses,  both  of  which  he 
filled.  Tom  Granger  was  not  fond  of  wine,  not 
from  any  conscientious  feeling,  but  because  that  the 
taste  was  not  pleasant  to  him.  Still,  he  took  his 
glass  of  wine  and  drank  it  too,  for  it  is  never  well 
to  decline  favors  from  men  in  power,  like  Mr. 
Nicholas  Lovejoy. 

After  the  old  gentleman  had  finished  his  glass  of 
wine,  he  drew  out  his  fine  cambric  handkerchief 
and  wiped  his  lips. 

"Tom,"  said  he. 

"  Sir,"  said  Tom. 

"Why  don't  you  ship  on  board  of  a  priva- 
teersman?" 

"  I  couldn't  do  it,  sir,"  said  Tom. 

"Why  not?" 

"  Well,  sir ;  it  may  sound  very  foolish  of  me  to  say 
so,  but  the  truth  is  that  I  don't  like  the  fighting." 

"Don't  like  the  fighting!"  said  Mr.  Lovejoy, 
raising  his  eyebrows.  "  Come,  Tom,  that  won't  do. 
Why,  when  that  junk  attacked  the  Quaker  City 
off  Ceylon,  there  was  not  a  man  aboard  that  fought 
like  you.  Captain  Austin  told  me  all  about  it, 
though  you  would  never  do  so,  and  I  haven't 
forgotten  it.  And  now  you  pretend  to  tell  me  that 
you  are  afraid." 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  45 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Tom  Granger,  very  hot  about  the 
ears;  "it  ain't  that;  it's  the  kind  of  fighting  that  I 
don't  like.  When  such  a  junkfull  of  coolies  as  that 
was  came  down  on  us,  a  man  was  bound  to  fight 
for  his  own  life  and  the  lives  (and  more  beside)  of 
the  women  aboard,  and  there  was  no  great  credit 
to  him  in  doing  it.  If  the  worst  came  to  the  worst, 
I  wouldn't  so  much  mind  entering  the  navy,  but  I 
don't  like  the  notion  of  going  out  to  run  foul  of 
some  poor  devil  of  a  merchant  captain,  who, 
maybe,  has  all  of  his  fortune  in  his  ship, — and 
that's  the  truth  sir." 

"But,  Tom,  the  navy  does  the  same  thing." 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Tom,  "but  they  do  it  for  the  sake 
of  war,  while  privateers  go  out  for  their  own  gain 
alone.  I  don't  see,  sir,  that  they  are  so  very  much 
better  than  pirates,  except  that  they  don't  do  so 
much  murder  and  that  the  law  allows  them." 

At  this,  Mr.  Lovejoy's  face  began  to  grow  a  little 
bit  redder  than  usual.  "Very  well,"  said  he,  getting 
up  and  standing  with  his  back  to  the  fire,  "suit 
yourself." 

By  this  Tom  knew  that  it  was  intended  for  him 
to  go,  which  he  accordingly  did. 

Just  as  he  got  to  the  door,  Mr.  Lovejoy  spoke 
again :  "  Look'ee,  Tom,  you  are  an  able  seaman, — 
none  better.  Think  this  matter  over  a  little  more, 
and  if  you  are  inclined  to  go  on  a  privateering 
cruise,  after  all,  I  think  that  I  may,  perhaps,  be  able 
to  get  you  a  place  aboard  of  as  tight  a  craft  as 
ever  floated  on  salt  water,  and,  maybe,  a  better 


46  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

berth  than  you  ever  had  iri  your  life  before.  There 
are  some  fat  pickings  down  toward  the  West  Indies 
just  now;  I  shouldn't  wonder  at  all  if,  with  the 
berth  that  I  think  I  can  get  you,  you  would  clear 
a  thousand  or  twelve  hundred  dollars  in  the  first 
twelve  months.  Good  morning ;  come  to-morrow 
and  let  me  know  what  you  decide  on."  Then  the 
old  gentleman  seated  himself  at  the  desk  and  began 
to  look  over  his  papers  again,  and  Tom  left  him. 

He  went  straight  to  his  lodging-house  (it  was 
the  old  "Ship  and  Anchor,"  a  great  place  for  sailors 
in  those  days),  and  his  mind  was  all  of  a  swirl  and 
eddy  like  the  waters  astern. 

It  was  a  nasty,  drizzly,  muggy  day,  and  Tom 
stood  leaning  on  the  window-sill  in  the  bar-room, 
trying  to  look  out  into  the  street  through  the 
dirty,  fly-specked  window.  The  room  was  full  of 
sailors,  many  of  them,  no  doubt,  belonging  to  the 
.  privateers  that  were  fitting  out  at  the  docks,  of 
%i  which  -  Mr.  Lpvejoy  had  spoken.  There  was  a 
'  party  of  them  playing  cards ,  at  a  sloppy  table  that 
stood  beside  the  bar.  The. day, was  so  dark  with 
.  the  rainy  drizzle  that  they  had  a  lighted  candle 
amongst  them,  so  that  they  might  be  able  to .  see 
the  game.  The  room,  hazy  with  tobacco  smoke, 
was  full  of  the  noise  of  loud  talking  and  the  air 
was  reeking  with  the  heavy  smell  of  hot  liquors. 
But,  Tom  stood  looking  out  of  the  window,  with 
his  mind  all  of  a  toss  and  a  tumble ;  for  the  last 
words  of  old  Nicholas  Lovejoy  sounded  in  his  ears 
through  all  the  loud  talking  and  foul  words:— 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  47 

"I  shouldn't  wonder  if  you  would  clear  a  thous- 
and or  twelve  hundred  dollars  in  the  first  twelve 
months." 

At  times  they  sounded  so  clearly  that  he  could 
almost  believe  that  they  were  spoken  by  some  one 
standing  beside  him.  The  more  that  the  words 
rang  in  his  ears,  the  more  he  thought  what  a  fool 
he  had  been  in  not  taking  up  with  Mr.  Lovejoy's 
half  offer.  Why  should  he  be  squeamish?  If 
every  one  were  so,  things  would  come  to  a  pretty 
pass,  for  the  navy  was  weak — in  numbers — and  the 
British  were  sending  out  their  privateers  all  over 
the  ocean ;  and  who  was  to  fight  them  and  protect 
our  own  shipping  if  no  one  helped  the  navy  ? 

So  Tom  argued  within  himself  in  the  most 
reasonable  way  in  the  world,  for  the  temptation  was 
very  great. 

As  he  stood  thus,  looking  out  of  the  window 
and  seeing  nothing,  for  his  eyes  were  turned  within 
himself,  some  one  suddenly  smote  him  upon  the 
shoulder,  and  a  voice  roared  in  his  ear,  "Helloa, 
Tom  Granger!  where  are  you  bound?" 

It  was  a  voice  that  Tom  Granger  knew  very  well, 
for  there  could  be  no  other  such  in  all  of  the  world  ; 
it  made  one's  ears  quiver,  even  when  it  was  softened 
somewhat  to  talking.  So,  even  before  Tom  turned 
his  head,  he  knew  that  Jack  Baldwin  was  standing 
behind  him. 

Jack  Baldwin  had  been  second  mate  of  the 
Quaker  City  on  the  voyage  to  the  East  Indies. 

Tom   Granger  never   saw  in  all   his   life  such 


4$  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

another  man  as  Jack  Baldwin.  He  stood  nearly  six 
feet  and  two  inches  in  his  stockings.  His  hair  and 
beard  were  black  and  curly,  and  his  eyes  were  as 
black  as  two  beads.  Tom  once  saw  him  pick  up 
a  mutinous  sailor — a  large  and  powerful  man — 
and  shake  him  as  you  might  shake  a  kitten.  To 
be  sure,  he  was  in  a  rage  at  the  time.  He  was 
better  dressed  than  Tom  had  ever  seen  him  before. 
There  was  something  of  a  half  naval  smack  about 
his  toggery,  and,  altogether,  he  looked  sleek  and 
prosperous,— very  different  from  what  Jack  ashore 
does  as  a  rule. 

Jack  Baldwin  saw  that  Tom  Granger  was  looking 
him  over.  "  I'm  on  the  crest  of  the  wave  now," 
said  he,  in  his  great,  deep  voice,  grinning  as  he 
spoke.  "  Look'ee,  Tom,"  and  he  fetched  up  a  gold 
eagle  from  out  of  his  breeches  pocket.  He  spun  it 
up  into  the  air,  and  caught  it  in  his  palm  again  as 
it  fell.  "There's  plenty  more  of  the  same  kind 
where  this  came  from,  Tom." 

"  I  wish  that  I  only  knew  where  the  tree  that 
they  grow  on  is  to  be  found,"  said  Tom,  ruefully. 

"  So  you  shall,  my  hearty.  And  do  you  want 
me  to  tell  you  where  it  is  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Tom,  you're  a  loon  ! " 

"  Why  so  ?  Because  I  want  to  know  where  the 
tree  grows  where  gold  eagles  may  be  had  for  the 
picking?" 

"  You  were  at  the  place  this  very  blessed  morn- 
ing, and  might  have  gathered  a  pocketful  of  the 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  49 

bright  boys  if  you  hadn't  run  before  a  little  wind  as 
though  it  was  a  hurricane." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  said  Tom,  though  he 
half  knew  without  the  asking. 

"  That  I'll  tell  you — here,  you,  bring  me  a  glass 
of  hot  brandy  and  water;  will  you  splice,  Tom  ?" 

"Not  I." 

"  I  bring  to  mind  that  you  were  always  called  the 
Quaker  aboard  ship,  and  the  name  fits  you  well. 
You  will  neither  fight  nor  drink,  without  you  have 
to." 

So  the  grog  was  brought,  and  Jack  Baldwin  and 
Tom  Granger  sat  down,  opposite  to  one  another,  at 
a  rickety  deal  table. 

Presently  Jack  leaned  over  and  laid  his  hand  on 
Tom's  arm.  "Where  do  you  think  I  hail  from, 
Tom  ?  "  said  he. 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  Well,  I'll  tell  you  :  from  old  Nick,  or  old  Love- 
joy,  or  Davy  Jones, — whichever  you  choose  to  call 
him.  I  was  with  him  not  ten  minutes  after  you 
left.  He  sent  me  after  you,  to  hunt  you  up;  so  I 
came  straight  here,  like  a  hot  shot,  for  I  knew  I'd 
find  you  in  the  old  place.  Sure  enough,  I've  found 
you,  and  here  we  are, — shipmates  both." 

"And  what  did  you  want  of  me?" 

"That  I'll  tell  you.  Tom,"— here  he  lowered 
his  voice  to  a  deep  rumble — "  have  you  seen  the 
Nancy  Hazlewood?" 

"  No." 

"  Well  I'll  show  her  to  you  after  a  bit.  She  is 
4 


$0  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

lying  in  the  river,  just  below  Smith's  Island.     She's 
the  new  privateer." 

Tom's  heart  beat  more  quickly,  but  he  only  said, 
"Is  she?" 

"  Who  do  you  think 's  the  owner,  Tom  ?'* 

"How  should  I  know?" 

"Old  Lovejoy!"  Here  Jack  raised  his  glass  of 
grog,  and  took  a  long  pull  at  it,  looking  over  the 
rim  at  Tom  all  the  while.  Tom  was  looking  down, 
picking  hard  at  the  corner  of  the  table. 

"  I  don't  see  that  this  is  any  concern  of  mine,'* 
he  said,  in  a  low  voice. 

"Don't  you  ?  Well,  I'll  tell  you  what  concern  it 
is  of  yours;  I'm  to  be  first  mate,  and  I  want  you  to 
be  second, — and  now  the  murder's  out !" 

Tom  shook  his  head,  but  he  said  nothing. 

Jack  Baldwin  slid  his  palm  down,  until  it  rested 
on  the  back  of  Tom's  hand.  "  Look'ee,  Tom 
Granger,"  said  he,  roughly;  "I  like  you.  We've 
been  messmates  more  than  once,  and  I  don't  forget 
how  you  kept  that  yellow  coolie  devil  from  jabbing 
his  d — d  snickershee  into  my  back,  over  off  Ceylon. 
There's  no  man  in  all  the  world  that  I'd  as  soon 
have  for  a  shipmate  as  you.  Old  Lovejoy,  too ; — 
he  says  that  he  must  have  you.  He  knows  very 
well  that  there  isn't  a  better  seaman  living  than 
the  one  that  stands  in  Tom  Granger's  shoes. 
Don't  be  a  fool !  Go  to  the  old  man,  name  your 
own  figure,  for  he'll  close  with  you  at  any  reason- 
able terms." 

So  Jack  talked  and  talked,  and  Tom  listened  and 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  5* 

listened,  and  the  upshot  of  it  was  that  he  promised 
to  go  and  see  old  Mr.  Lovejoy  again  the  next 
morning. 

You  may  easily  guess  how  it  all  turned  out,  for 
when  a  man  not  only  finds  that  he  is  in  temptation, 
but  is  willing  to  be  there,  he  is  pretty  sure  to  end 
by  doing  that  which  he  knows  is  not  right. 

So  Tom  drank  another  glass  of  Mr.  Lovejoy's 
fine  old  sherry,  the  old  gentleman  offered  liberal 
terms,  and  the  end  of  the  matter  was  that  Tom 
promised  to  enter  as  second  mate  of  the  Nancy 
Hazlewood,  privateersman. 

Tom  Granger  has  always  felt  heartily  ashamed  of 
himself  because  of  the  way  that  he  acted  in  this 
matter.  It  is  not  that  privateering  was  so  bad ;  I 
pass  no  judgment  on  that,  and  I  know  that  there 
were  many  good  men  in  that  branch  of  the  service. 

I  have  always  held  that  a  man  is  not  necessarily 
wicked  because  he  does  a  bad  action ;  he  may  not 
know  that  it  is  bad,  and  then,  surely,  no  blame  can 
be  laid  to  his  account.  But  when  he  feels  that  a 
thing  is  evil,  he  is  wrong  in  doing  it,  whether  it  is 
evil  or  not. 

Jack  Baldwin  did  nothing  wrong  in  going  on  this 
privateering  cruise,  for  he  saw  nothing  wrong  in  it, 
but  Tom  Granger  thought  that  it  was  wrong,  and 
yet  did  it;  therefore  he  has  always  felt  ashamed  of 
himself. 

In  looking  back,  after  all  these  years,  it  is  hard 
to  guess  what  he  expected  would  be  the  end  of  the 
matter.  If  he  had  come  back  in  a  year's  time, — 


52  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

which  he  did  not  do, — and  if  he  had  brought  home 
a  thousand  dollars  of  prize  money  from  a  priva- 
teering cruise,  I  am  very  much  inclined  to  think 
that  Elihu  Penrose  would  hardly  have  judged  that 
it  had  been  fairly  earned. 

Friends  were  very  much  more  strict  in  their 
testimony  against  war  then  than  they  are  now. 
Numbers  of  young  men  went  from  here  during  the 
rebellion,  and  nothing  was  thought  of  it.  I  myself 
had  a  grandson  in  the  navy ; — he  is  a  captain  now. 

As  I  said,  Elihu  Penrose  would  hardly  have 
fancied  Tom  Granger's  way  of  earning  money,  if  it 
had  been  won  in  that  way;  as  for  what  Patty  would 
have  said  and  done, — I  do  not  like  to  think  of  it. 

However,  it  is  no  use  trying  to  guess  at  the  color 
of  the  chicks  that  addled  eggs  might  have  hatched 
out,  so  I  will  push  on  with  my  story,  and  tell  how 
the  Nancy  Hazlewood  put  to  sea,  and  what  befell 
her  there. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  Nancy  Hazlewood  put  to  sea  on  a  Friday. 
Tom  Granger  was  not  over  fanciful  in  the 
matter  of  signs  and  omens ;  nevertheless,  he  always 
had  a  nasty  feeling  about  sailing  on  that  day;  he 
might  reason  with  himself  that  it  was  foolish,  but 
the  feeling  was  there,  and  was  not  to  be  done  away 
with.  The  only  other  time  that  he  had  sailed  on  a 
Friday,  was  in  the  barque  Manhattan  (Captain 
Nathan  J.  Wild),  bound  for  Nassau,  with  a  cargo  of 
wheat.  About  a  week  afterward,  she  put  back  into 
New  York  harbor  again,  and  not  a  day  too  soon, 
either.  Captain  Granger  has  often  told  the  tale  of 
this  short  cruise,  so  I  will  not  tell  it  over  again,  as 
it  has  nothing  to  do  with  this  story,  except  to  show 
why  it  was  that  Tom  Granger  always  had  an 
ill-feeling  about  sailing  on  Friday. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  there  was  a  greater  and  a 
better  reason  to  feel  worried  than  on  account  of 
this,  for  the  truth  was,  that  the  Nancy  Hazlewood 
put  to  sea  fully  ten  days  before  she  should  have 
done  so,  and  from  that  arose  most  of  the  trouble. 

The  blame  in  the  matter  belonged  no  more  to 
one  than  to  another,  for  all  thought  that  it  was  for 

53 


54  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

the  best  to  weigh  anchor  when  they  did;  never- 
theless, it  was  a  mistake,  and  a  very  sad  mistake. 

There  never  was  any  wish  to  cast  a  slur  on  the 
memory  of  Captain  Knight,  in  the  account  of  the 
matter  that  was  afterward  published,  for  no  one 
ever  said,  to  my  knowledge,  that  he  was  anything 
else  than  a  good  seaman,  and  knew  his  business. 
But  certainly,  his  headstrong  wilfulness  in  the 
matter  of  the  troubles  that  befell  the  ship  was,  to 
say  the  least,  very  blameworthy. 

Tom  saw  nothing  of  Captain  Knight  until  the 
day  before  the  ship  sailed.  Indeed,  the  captain  had 
not  been  in  town,  so  far  as  he  knew.  This  had 
troubled  him.  He  had  said  nothing  about  it,  but  it 
had  troubled  him. 

About  noon  on  Thursday,  the  day  before  the 
ship  sailed,  Tom  came  to  Lovejoy's  dock,  where  he 
was  overseeing  the  lading  of  some  stores.  One  of 
the  clerks  at  the  dock  told  him  that  Captain  Knight 
had  been  aboard  of  the  ship,  and  also  that  he  had 
wanted  to  see  him,  and  had  waited  for  him  some 
time,  but  had  gone  about  fifteen  minutes  before. 
A  little  while  afterward  Mr.  Whimple,  Mr.  Love- 
joy's  head-clerk,  came  to  him  and  asked  him  to 
step  up  to  the  office,  as  Captain  Knight  and  Mr. 
Lovejoy  were  there,  and  wanted  to  speak  to  him. 

Captain  Knight  was  standing  in  front  of  the  fire, 
talking  with  Mr.  Lovejoy,  when  Tom  came  into 
the  office.  He  shook  hands  very  heartily  when 
Mr.  Lovejoy  made  them  -acquainted,  and  said  some 
kind  things  to  Tom—that  .hejiad  fl.o  ^Q.ubt  but 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  §5 

that  their  intercourse  would  be  pleasant ;  at  least, 
he  hoped  so  (smiling),  for,  from  that  which  he  had 
heard  of  Tom,  he  felt  that  it  would  be  his  own  fault 
if  it  were  not.  He  said  that  he  was  sorry  that  he 
had  not  been  on  hand  to  oversee  matters,  as  he 
should  have  done,  although  he  knew  that  these 
things  could  be  in  no  better  hands  ;  that  his  mother 
had  been  so  sick  that  she  had  not  been  expected  to 
live,  and  that  it  had  not  been  possible  for  him  to 
come  on  from  Connecticut  sooner. 

Tom  felt  relieved  to  find  that  Captain  Knight 
had  such  a  good  reason  for  not  having  been  on 
.hand  to  see  to  the  proper  lading  of  his  vessel.  He 
also  gathered  from  this  speech  that  the  captain  was 
;a  Yankee,  which  he  had  not  known  before.  Jack 
Baldwin  told  him  afterward  that  he  hailed  from 
New  London,  and  had  the  name  of  being  a  very 
good  sailor  and  a  great  fighter. 

He  was  quite  a  young  man,  a  little  older  than 
Tom,  perhaps,  but  hardly  as  old  as  Jack  Baldwin. 
He  was  a  fine  gentlemanly  fellow,  and  looked  not 
unlike  a  picture  of  Commodore  Decatur  that  Tom 
had  seen  in  the  window  of  a  print  shop  in  Walnut 
street,  though  Knight  was  the  younger  man. 

After  a  short  time  Jack  Baldwin  came  into  the 
office;  Captain  Knight  and  he  spoke  to  one 
another,  for  they  had  met  before. 

Presently,  as  they  all  stood  talking  together,  Mr. 
Lovejoy  asked  of  a  sudden  whether  it  would  be 
possible,  at  a  pinch,  to  weigh  anchor  the  next 
day. 


$6  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

Tom  was  struck  all  aback  at  this,  and  could 
hardly  believe  that  he  heard  aright. 

"  I  should  think,"  said  Captain  Knight,  "  that  it 
might  be  done;"  and,  from  the  way  in  which  he 
spoke,  Tom  could  see  that  he  and  Mr.  Lovejoy  had 
already  talked  the  matter  over  and  had  pretty  well 
settled  it  between  themselves. 

"What  do  you  think,  Mr.  Baldwin,"  said  old  Mr. 
Lovejoy,  and  all  looked  at  Jack  for  an  answer. 

"I  think,  sir,"  said  Jack,  in  his  rough  way,  "I 
think,  sir,  as  Captain  Knight  says,  that  it  might  be 
done.  A  man  might  cruise  from  here  to  Cochin 
China,  in  a  dory,  provided  that  he  had  enough 
hard-tack  and  water  aboard.  If  he  met  a  gale, 
though,  he  would  be  pretty  sure  to  go  to  the 
bottom, — and  so  should  we." 

Tom  could  easily  see  that  Captain  Knight  was 
touched  at  the  way  in  which  Jack  had  spoken,  as 
well  he  might  be.  It  was,  however,  Jack's  usual 
way  of  speaking,  and  it  is  not  likely  that  he  meant 
anything  by  it. 

"What  do  you  think,  Mr.  Granger?"  said 
Captain  Knight,  turning  quickly  to  Tom,  with  a 
little  red  spot  burning  in  each  cheek. 

Tom  was  sorry  that  he  was  brought  into  the 
matter,  for  he  saw,  as  has  been  said,  that  Captain 
Knight  was  touched,  and  he  did  not  want  to 
say  anything  to  gall  him  further.  However,  he 
answered,  as  he  was  asked:  "I  am  afraid,  sir,"  said 
he,  smiling,  "that  it  may  perhaps  be  a  little  risky 
to  weigh  anchor  just  yet."  Of  course,  he  could 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  57 

not  explain  when  it  was  not  asked  of  him  to  do  so, 
but  he  knew  that  it  would  take  fully  ten  days,  if 
not  two  weeks,  to  get  the  Nancy  Hazlewood  into 
anything  like  fit  sailing  trim.  Not  only  were  the 
decks  hampered  up  with  a  mass  of  stores  of  all 
kinds  (for  it  had  been  necessary  to  crowd  them 
aboard  in  a  great  hurry),  but  no  start  had  been 
made  at  drawing  out  watch,  quarter  and  station 
bills.  Tom  could  not  help  thinking  that  if  Captain 
Knight  had  been  on  hand  during  the  past  week,  he 
never  would  have  given  it  as  his  opinion  that  the 
vessel  was  fit  to  sail, — even  on  a  pinch. 

When  Tom  gave  his  answer,  Captain  Knight 
turned  hastily  away  to  the  fire-place,  and  began  in 
a  nervous  sort  of  a  way  to  finger  a  letter-stamp  that 
lay  on  the  mantle-shelf.  Any  one  could  see  that 
he  was  very  much  irritated ;  but  in  a  few  moments 
he  turned  around  again,  and  seemed  quiet  enough, 
only  that  the  red  still  burned  in  his  cheeks.  Mr. 
Lovejoy  tried  to  throw  oil  on  the  troubled  water. 

"  Mr.  Granger,"  said  he,  resting  his  hand  ever  so 
lightly  on  Tom's  arm  for  a  moment,  "  Mr.  Granger 
has  had  a  great  deal  to  do  this  past  week,  and 
maybe  (smiling)  the  overpress  of  work  makes  him 
think  that  there  is  more  yet  to  be  done  than  there 
really  is.  I  wouldn't,"  said  he,  taking  up  a  letter 
from  his  desk,  "  I  wouldn't  think  for  a  moment,  and 
neither  would  Captain  Knight,  of  letting  the  Hazle- 
wood leave  her  anchorage  just  now,  if  it  were  not 
for  this  packet,  which  was  sent  to  me  this  morning, 
about  half-past  ten  o'clock." 


5&  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

Here  he  handed  the  packet  to  Jack  Baldwin,  who 
read  it,  and  then  passed  it  to  Tom  without  a  word. 
It  was  the  news  that  Beresford  had  lifted  the 
blockade  of  the  Delaware. 

"  You  see,"  said  Mr.  Lovejoy,  "  here  is  a  good 
chance  of  getting  away.  There  is  no  knowing  how 
soon  John  Bull  will  shut  the  door  again,  and  then, 
here  we'll  be  penned  up  for  six  months,  or  more, 
perhaps." 

Then  Captain  Knight  spoke  again.  He  said  that 
while  the  ship  might  not  be  in  fit  trim  for  sailing 
in  an  ordinary  case,  some  risks  must  be  run  with 
her,  for  risks,  greater  or  less,  must  always  be  taken 
in  this  sort  of  service.  He  said  that  he  proposed 
to  run  for  the  Capes,  and  put  into  Lewes  Harbor 
if  the  weather  seemed  likely  to  be  heavy.  They 
could  get  in  proper  trim  there  just  as  easily  as  they 
could  in  Philadelphia.  He  also  said  that,  being 
just  inside  of  the  Capes,  they  would  not  only  have 
good  harborage,  but  could  either  slip  out  to  sea 
or  run  up  the  bay,  in  case  that  any  of  the  enemy's 
cruisers  should  appear  in  the  offing.  Another 
great  advantage  was  that  they  would  be  this  much 
further  on  their  cruise,  and,  if  the  weather  turned 
out  well,  could  take  their  chances  and  run  for  Key 
West,  even  if  the  ship  were  not  in  the  best  of  order. 

"  I  know,"  said  he,  "  that  both  Mr.  Baldwin  and 
Mr.  Granger  have  been  bred  to  caution  in  the 
merchant  service,  where  cargoes  and  storage  are 
almost  the  first  things  to  consider,  but "  (here  he 
looked  straight  at  Jack),  "one  must  have  some 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  59 

courage  in  the  sort  of  service  that  we  are  about  to 
enter  upon,  for  a  lack  of  that  is  almost  as  great  a 
fault  as  poor  seamanship." 

There  was  a  great  deal  of  reason  in  the  first  part 
of  this  speech,  and  Tom  could  not  help  seeing  it, 
though  for  all  that  he  was  troubled  at  the  step 
which  they  seemed  about  to  take.  As  for  what 
was  last  said,  he  felt  that  it  was  most  uncalled  for, 
for  he  knew  that  Jack  Baldwin  was  as  brave  as  any 
man  living ;  nor  was  he,  I  think,  a  coward. 

Jack  was  very  angry.  He  said  that  if  any  occa- 
sion should  arise,  he  hoped  to  show  Captain  Knight 
that  he  would  dare  to  do  as  much  as  any  man  that 
ever  walked  a  deck-plank,  no  matter  whom  he 
might  be;  that  he  would  say  no  more  about  lying 
in  port,  and  was  now  willing  to  sail  at  any  time — 
the  sooner  the  better. 

Poor  old  Mr.  Lovejoy  was  very  much  troubled 
at  the  ill  feeling  between  the  two  men.  He  talked 
to  both  very  kindly  until,  after  a  while,  the  trouble 
seemed  to  clear  away  somewhat,  and  things  went 
more  smoothly. 

At  last  it  was  settled  that  if  the  wind  held  to  the 
northward  (it  had  been  blowing  from  that  quarter 
for  the  last  two  days)  they  should  weigh  anchor 
at  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  so  as  to  take 
advantage  of  the  ebb  tide,  and  run  down  as  far  as 
Lewestown  harbor  at  least. 

"  What  do  you  say  to  all  this,  Tom  ?  "  said  Jack, 
as  the  two  walked  down  to  the  dock  together. 

"  I  say  nothing,  Jack." 


60  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

"It  seems  to  me  that  you  never  do  say  anything," 
said  Jack,  "but  7  say  something;  I  say  that  we  are 
all  a  pack  of  lubberly  fools,  and  that  the  worst  one 
amongst  us  is  that  walking  sea  dandy,  for  he  ought 
to  know  better." 

Tom  could  not  but  agree  with  a  part  of  this 
speech,  but  he  made  no  answer,  for  it  could  do 
no  good. 

The  anchor  was  weighed  at  three  o'clock  the 
next  day  as  had  been  fixed  upon,  and  they  ran 
down  the  river  with  the  wind  E.  N.  E.  and  an  ebb 
tide  to  help  them  along ;  and  so  began  the  cruise 
of  the  Nancy  Hazlewood. 

All  this  may  seem  to  be  spun  out  somewhat  over 
long,  but  I  tell  it  to  you  that  you  may  see  just  why 
the  Nancy  Hazlewood  sailed  when  she  did,  which 
was  ten  days  before  she  should  have  done.  The 
day  of  sailing  was  Friday,  the  2Oth  of  April,  1813. 

Tom  wrote  a  letter  to  Patty  Penrose  on  the 
evening  before  he  sailed.  It  was  a  long  letter  and 
he  told  her  many  things,  but  he  did  not  tell  her 
that  the  vessel  in  which  he  had  sailed  as  second 
mate  was  a  privateersman. 

It  may  be  well  that  the  Nancy  Hazlewood  should 
be  described,  that  you  may  have  a  notion  of  the 
craft  in  which  Tom  Granger  went  upon  his  first 
and  last  privateering  cruise.  She  was  a  full-rigged 
ship  of  five  hundred  and  fifty  tons,  and,  though  so 
small,  had  a  poop  and  a  top-gallant  forecastle. 

Tom  had  rarely  seen  a  vessel  with  handsomer 
lines. 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  6 1 

She  was  evidently  intended  for  great  speed, 
though,  in  his  judgment,  she  was  rather  heavily 
sparred  for  a  vessel  of  her  size.  It  afterward  proved 
that  she  was  so.  She  carried  eight  thirty-two 
pound  carronades  on  the  main  deck,  and  two  long 
twelves,  one  on  the  forecastle  and  one  on  the  poop ; 
and  about  one  hundred  men.  Altogether,  though 
not  so  heavily  armed  as  the  Dolphin  or  Comet  of 
Baltimore,  she  was  one  of  the  most  substantial  as 
well  as  one  of  the  swiftest  privateersmen  that  ever 
left  any  port  of  the  country  during  the  war. 

As  a  rule,  privateersmen  were  swift-sailing  brigs 
or  schooners,  heavily  armed  and  manned,  and 
depending  largely  upon  their  prizes  for  provisions ; 
but  the  Nancy  Hazlewood  was  fitted  out  almost  as 
completely  as  though  she  were  in  the  regular 
service. 

All  that  night  and  during  Saturday  the  2 1st  it 
blew  heavily  from  the  N.  E.  On  Saturday  evening, 
however,  the  weather  broke  and  there  seemed  a 
prospect  of  its  being  clear  the  next  day.  On 
Sunday  forenoon  at  two  bells  the  Nancy  Hazlewood 
was  nearly  abreast  of  Lewestown  harbor.  Captain 
Knight  was  on  the  poop  at  the  time,  and  he  gave 
orders  to  Tom,  who  was  the  officer  of  the  deck, 
that  a  craft  should  be  signaled  to  take  off  the 
pilot. 

Tom  was  struck  all  aback  at  this ;  it  was  the  first 
hint  that  he  had  had  that  Captain  Knight  did  not 
intend  to  put  into  Lewestown  harbor  after  all.  It 
was  in  rather  an  uncomfortable  state  of  mind  that 


62  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

he  gave  the  needful  orders,  had  the  jack  run  up 
at  the  fore  and  the  vessel  hove  to. 

Captain  Knight  stood  beside  Tom,  his  hands 
clasped  behind  him,  watching  the  pilot  boat  as  it 
presently  hoisted  sail  and  bore  down  under  the 
lee  quarter.  What  his  feelings  were  cannot  be  told ; 
Tom's  were  uncomfortable  enough,  as  has  been  said. 
He  knew  that  Captain  Knight  must  have  had  good 
and  sufficient  reason  for  that  which  he  was  about 
to  do;  nevertheless,  his  heart  sank  as  he  cast  his 
eyes  around  and  saw  the  confusion  everywhere; 
the  deck  littered  with  all  sort  of  gear  and  hamper. 
There  is  an  old  saying  that  a  vessel  is  never  ready 
for  sea  until  a  week  after  leaving  port.  Tom 
thought  that  the  Nancy  Hazlewood  was  at  least 
three  weeks  behind  time. 

Presently  Jack  Baldwin  came  up  from  below. 
He  cast  his  eyes  quickly  aloft,  and  then  he  looked 
at  the  pilot  "boat,  which  was  now  close  under  the 
lee  quarter. 

Tom  could  see  that  he  took  it  all  in  in  a  moment. 

He  came  straight  across  the  deck  to  where 
Captain  Knight  and  Tom  Granger  were  standing, 
and  touched  his  hat  to  the  captain. 

"  Captain  Knight,"  said  he. 

"  Sir  ?"  said  the  captain,  turning  quickly  upon 
him. 

"The  understanding  was  that  we  were  to  put  into 
Lewes  Harbor,  for  a  time;  at  least,  so  I  understood 
it.  May  I  ask  if  you  intend  to  put  to  sea,  after  all  ?  " 

Tom  stood  aghast.    He  had  never  heard  an  officer 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  63 

speak  to  his  captain  in  such  a  way  in  all  his  life 
before.  There  was  no  better  seaman  afloat  than 
Jack  Baldwin,  and  it  must  have  been  a  serious  case, 
in  his  opinion,  that  would  excuse  him  in  so 
addressing  his  commanding  officer. 

As  for  Captain  Knight,  he  grew  white  to  the  lips. 

He  spoke  in  a  low  tone,  and  very  slowly,  but  his 
voice  trembled  with  the  weight  of  his  anger.  "  Mr. 
Baldwin,"  said  he,  "I  don't  know  where  you  have 
sailed,  or  what  discipline  you  have  seen,  that  has 
taught  you  to  allow  yourself  to  question  your 
captain's  intentions  to  your  captain's  self.  Under- 
stand me,  sir,  once  and  for  all :  I  am  the  chief 
officer  of  this  ship,  and  I  will  not  have  you,  nor 
any  man  aboard,  question  me.  You  hear  me? 
That  will  do,  sir ;  go  to  your  room." 

The  two  men  looked  at  one  another  for  a 
moment.  Tom  held  his  breath,  expecting  to  hear 
Jack  blaze  out  with  something  that  would  get  him 
into  more  trouble  than  ever.  However,  he  said 
nothing,  but  swung  on  his  heel  and  went  below. 

Captain  Knight  stood  beside  Tom,  in  silence,  his 
breath  coming  and  going  quickly;  suddenly,  he  too 
turned  and  walked  hastily  to  the  cabin,  banging  the 
door  behind  him. 

Tom  leaned  on  the  rail,  sick  at  heart;  he  felt 
miserable  about  the  whole  matter.  Here  he  was, 
embarked  on  a  cruise  for  which  he  had  no  liking, 
in  the  stormy  season  of  the  year,  in  a  ship  which 
he  believed  to  be  unfit  for  sailing,  with  a  crew  that 
had  no  discipline,  and  the  captain  and  the  first  mate 


64  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

at  loggerheads  before  they  were  out  of  harbor.  He 
would  have  given  an  eye  to  be  safe  ashore  again. 

And  yet,  that  Sunday  morning  was  not  a  day  to 
breed  troubled  thoughts.  Tom  had  rarely  seen  a 
lovelier  one ;  the  air  seemed  more  like  June  than 
April  The  last  few  days  of  rain  had  washed  the 
air  until  it  was  as  clear  as  crystal.  One  could  see 
every  window  pane  in  the  little  town  of  Lewes. 
There  was  a  sentry  walking  up  and  down  on  the 
newly-made  earthworks  in  front  of  the  town,  and  at 
every  turn  that  he  took  at  the  end  of  his  beat,  his 
bayonet  flashed  like  a  star.  The  ship  rose  and  fell 
lazily  on  the  heaving  of  the  ground  swell  that 
rolled  in  around  the  Capes.  Down  to  the  south- 
ward the  white  sands  stretched  away  into  the 
looming  of  the  distance,  rimmed  with  a  whiter  line 
of  foam  until  all  was  lost  in  the  misty  haze  cast  up 
by  the  tumbling  surf. 

The  pilot  boat  had  now  run  up  near  to  them, 
and  was  launching  a  dory  from  her  deck.  Tom 
stood  leaning  on  the  rail,  looking  at  her,  and 
presently  the  pilot  came  and  stood  beside  him.  He 
was  a  short,  powerful  man,  bull-necked  and  long- 
armed.  A  shock  of  hair  and  a  grizzled  beard 
seemed  to  make  -a  sort  of  frame  around  his  face. 
Even  he  felt  uncomfortable  at  that  which  had  just 
passed. 

"  A  nasty  row,  wasn't  it,  sir  ?  "  said  he  to  Tom, 
jerking  his  head  toward  the  captain's  cabin. 

Tom  made  no  answer ;  in  fact,  he  did  not  look 
at  the  man,  for  it  was  none  of  the  fellow's  business. 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  65 

Presently  the  dory  came  alongside,  and  the  pilot 
slid  down  the  man-ropes  and  stepped  cleverly  into 
her. 

By  noon  the  Nancy  Hazlewood  had  dropped 
Cape  May  astern.  The  captain  had  sent  for  Jack 
to  come  upon  deck  again,  to  take  his  watch  at 
eight  bells.  Captain  Knight  had  directed  her 
course  to  be  laid  S.  E.  by  E.,  by  which  Tom  sup- 
posed that  he  intended  to  run  well  out,  so  as  to 
escape  the  chance  of  falling  in  with  any  of  the 
British  cruisers  that  were  at  that  time  hanging 
about  the  coast,  more  especially  off  the  mouth  of 
the  Chesapeake.  The  wind  was  nearly  astern, 
every  inch  of  cloth  was  spread,  and  the  way  in 
which  the  Nancy  Hazlewood  boomed  along  showed 
Tom  Granger  that  he  had  not  overrated  her  sailing 
qualities.  The  log  showed  that  she  was  running  at 
a  little  over  eleven  knots. 

All  of  the  afternoon  Tom  was  in  the  forward 
part  of  the  vessel,  looking  to  the  clearing  away  of  a 
lot  of  stores,  for  they  were  getting  things  to  rights 
as  well  as  they  could,  and  taking  advantage  of  the 
fair  weather  to  do  it. 

And  it  was  very  needful,  too,  for,  beside  spare 
suits  of  sails  and  spars,  lashed  to  nothing,  there 
was  a  great  litter  of  miscellaneous  stores, — barrels 
of  salt  pork,  junk,  hard-tack,  and  flour,  kegs, 
chests,  crates,  yeoman's  and  purser's  stores,  and  a 
hundred  and  one  things — too  many  to  tell  of. 

Tom  could  not  help  wondering,  as  he  looked  at 
this  mass  of  stores,  what  they  should  do  if  it 


66  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

should  be  needful  to  man  the  guns  for  a  fight,  or 
work  the  ship  in  a  sudden  squall.  However,  no 
craft  of  any  sort  was  in  sight,  and  there  was  no 
sign  of  foul  weather. 

One  of  the  worst  features  of  the  whole  matter 
was  the  slowness  with  which  they  got  along  with 
the  business  of  clearing  up  all  this  hamper;  the 
work  seemed  to  gather  on  them  instead  of  growing 
less. 

About  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  Jack  came  to 
where  Tom  stood  overseeing  the  men  at  this  work. 
He  stood  beside  him  for  some  time  without  saying 
a  word,  looking  moodily  at  them.  Presently  he 
spoke  all  of  a  sudden :  "  What  do  you  say  to  it  all, 
Tom?" 

"  I  have  nothing  to  say,  Jack,"  said  Tom. 

"  You  may  have  nothing  to  say,"  said  Jack,  "but 
I  have.  Mark  my  words,  Tom,  if  we're  caught  in 
any  sort  of  heavy  weather  we'll  founder  as  sure  as 
my  name's  Jack  Baldwin ! "  So  saying,  he  turned 
on  his  heel  and  walked  quickly  away.  Tom  could 
easily  see  that  Jack  felt  touched  at  him  because  he 
did  not  show  more  feeling  in  the  matter.  But 
though  Tom  did  not  show  it,  his  thoughts  were 
uncomfortable  enough  in  all  conscience. 

That  day  (the  twenty-second),  was  as  good  a  day 
as  one  could  have  wished  for,  and  so  was  the  next, 
— and  that  was  the  last,  for  then  the  trouble  began. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

SO  the  23d  was  the  last  fair  day  that  they  had  on 
that  short  cruise.      During  the  forenoon  the 
wind   held  from   nearly  the  same  quarter — that   is, 
northerly  and  westerly. 

The  air  was  mild  and  pleasant;  the  day,  like  the 
day  before,  seemed  more  like  June  than  the  middle 
of  April. 

Toward  noon,  however,  the  wind  shifted  around 
to  the  southward  and  eastward,  and  the  glass  had  a 
downward  bearing.  Tom  saw,  with  a  troubled 
feeling,  that  the  weather  began  to  take  an  ugly  sort 
of  a  look.  About  nine  o'clock  Captain  Knight  gave 
orders  to  have  the  vessel's  course  altered  to  nearly 
due  south. 

At  noon  the  observation  showed  their  position  to 
be  about  35°  40'  north,  by  71°  west,  with  Hatteras 
about  210  miles  distant,  W.  by  S.  on  the  starboard 
beam. 

A  little  before  eight  bells,  Captain  Knight  came 
up  on  deck  again,  and  Tom,  feeling  anxious  him- 
self, looked  out  of  the  corners  of  his  eyes,  to  see 
if  he  could  gather  what  the  captain  thought  of 
the  situation.  It  seemed  to  Tom  that  he  was  not 


68  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

quite  easy  in  his  mind.  He  cast  his  eyes  aloft,  and 
then  looked  around.  He  took  a  turn  or  two  up 
and  down  the  deck,  and  then  looked  at  the  glass, 
which,  as  had  been  said,  was  falling.  Whatever  he 
might  have  thought  about  the  looks  of  things,  he 
said  nothing.  Tom  had  half  expected  an  order  to 
shorten  sail,  but  Captain  Knight  gave  none  such, 
and  presently  went  to  his  cabin  again. 

Shortly  after  noon  the  wind  was  blowing  from 
the  northeast.  It  became  a  great  deal  colder,  and 
by  four  o'clock  the  sky  was  overcast  by  a  gathering 
haze,  which,  at  last,  shut  out  the  sun  altogether. 

About  this  time  they  fell  in  with  shifting  banks 
of  fog,  blowing  before  the  wind,  the  like  of  which 
Tom  had  never  seen  before.  They  seemed  to  drift 
in  belts,  and  were  no  doubt  raised  by  cold  currents 
of  air,  for  a  chill  could  be  felt  the  minute  the  ship 
would  run  into  one  of  them.  Every  now  and  then 
the  wind  would  sweep  these  banks  away,  rolling 
them  up  before  it,  and  for  a  little  while  there  would 
be  a  clear  space  around  the  ship  for  maybe  a 
couple  of  miles  or  more. 

At  that  time  they  were  under  all  plain  sail  to 
top  gallant  sails,  and  were  booming  along  at  a  rate 
that  could  not  have  been  less  than  ten  knots.  Tom 
thought  that  the  Nancy  Hazlewood  might  even 
have  done  better  than  she  was  then  doing,  were  it 
not  that  she  labored  in  a  most  unusual  way  for  a 
vessel,  in  a  wind  no  heavier  than  that  in  which  she 
was  then  sailing.  There  is  no  doubt  that  this  came 
from  the  heaviness  of  her  spars  as  well  as  the  ill 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  69 

stowage  of  her  provisions  and  stores;  still  she  was 
doing  well,  and  any  one  could  see  with  half  an  eye 
that  it  would  be  an  uncommonly  swift  cruiser  to 
whom  the  Nancy  Hazlewood  would  not  be  able  to 
show  a  clean  pair  of  heels,  if  the  need  should  arise 
for  her  doing  so. 

It  was  a  little  before  the  middle  of  the  first  dog 
watch,  when  there  happened  one  of  the  closest 
misses  that  Tom  ever  had  of  losing  his  life.  I  most 
firmly  believe  that  if  any  one  beside  Jack  Baldwin 
had  been  the  officer  of  the  deck,  Tom  Granger's 
story  would  never  have  had  to  have  been  told. 

Jack  was  walking  up  and  down  on  the  poop  in  a 
restless  sort  of  a  way.  It  was  plain  that  he  was 
anxious  at  the  fog,  as  well  he  might  be.  At  one 
time  the  ship  would  be  surging  away  across  what 
seemed  to  be  a  lake,  with  dull  banks  of  snow  all 
around,  at  another  she  would  plunge  headforemost 
into  whirling  clouds  of  mist,  so  thick  that  the 
leaden  sea  alongside  could  barely  be  seen ;  heaving 
as  though  it  were  something  alive,  and  the  fog  was 
smothering  it. 

Jack  came  to  the  break  of  the  poop  and  looked 
over  to  where  Tom  was  standing,  on  the  deck 
below.  His  black  hair  and  beard  were  covered 
with  the  dampness,  so  that  he  looked  as  though  he 
had  turned  gray. 

"Tom,"  said  he,  "I  wish  you'd  slip  foreward  and 
see  that  those  men  are  keeping  a  bright  lookout 
ahead.  Keep  your  weather  eye  lifted  too,  Tom,  till 
we're  out  of  the  worst  of  this  infernally  thick  fog," 


70  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

So  Tom  went  foreward,  as  Jack  had  asked  him 
to  do,  and  found  that  the  two  men  who  had  been 
placed  there  since  they  had  run  into  the  fog  were 
keeping  as  sharp  a  lookout  as  could  be  wished  for. 

Just  as  Tom  climbed  up  on  the  forecastle,  they 
surged  out  into  a  clear  space,  that  was  maybe  two 
miles  or  two  miles  and  a  quarter  from  side  to  side. 

They  had  run  pretty  nearly  across  this  stretch, 
and  I  recollect  that  Tom  was  just  lighting  his  pipe 
under  the  lee  of  the  foremast.  As  he  raised  his 
head  and  looked  over  the  port  bow,  he  saw  a  sight 
that  made  the  blood  stand  still  in  his  veins. 

It  was  a  man-of-war  in  full  sail,  looming  up  like  a 
mountain. 

It  came  out  of  the  fog  so  suddenly,  that  it 
seemed  as  though  the  mist  had  taken  form  from 
itself.  It  was  bearing  straight  down  across  the  port 
bow  of  the  Nancy  Hazlewood,  plunging  forward  as 
solemnly  as  death.  It  could  not  have  been  more 
than  six  or  seven  ships'  lengths  distant,  and  the 
great  sails  bellying  out  like  big  clouds,  shadowed 
over  the  Nancy  Hazlewood  as  she  might  have 
shadowed  over  a  fishing  smack. 

Ten  seconds  more  and  she  would  have  been 
down  upon  them,  and  would  have  crushed  the  little 
craft  as  though  she  had  been  made  of  paper. 
There  was  a  moment  of  silence  as  great  as  though 
every  man  aboard  of  the  Nancy  Hazlewood  had 
been  turned  to  stone.  I  remember  that  Tom 
Granger  stood  with  his  newly-lighted  pipe  in  his 
hand,  never  moving  a  hair. 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  71 

The  silence  was  only  for  an  instant,  though,  for 
the  next  moment  a  voice  roared  like  a  trumpet : 

"  Hard  a  starboard  !  Let  go,  head  sheets  and 
lee  head  braces !" 

It  was  Jack  Baldwin's  voice,  and  never  did  Tom 
hear  it  ring  as  it  did  at  that  moment.  It  not  only 
was  heard  through  the  ship,  but  it  pealed  through 
it  like  a  clap  of  thunder.  Those  below  came 
tumbling  up  helter-skelter,  and  the  captain  came 
running  out  of  his  cabin,  for  there  was  a  ring  in 
Jack's  voice  that  told  every  man  aboard  of  the  ship 
that  great  danger  was  down  upon  them.  It  seemed 
to  break  the  stillness  around  just  as  a  stone  dropped 
into  a  well  might  break  the  stillness  below.  In  an 
instant  the  braces  were  flung  from  the  belaying- 
pins,  and  the  ship  came  up  toward  the  wind  without 
a  second  to  lose.  Before  those  aboard  of  the 
frigate  had  gathered  their  wits  she  had  passed 
alongside,  and  so  close  that  a  child  could  easily 
have  pitched  a  biscuit  aboard  of  the  Nancy  Hazle- 
wood  from  the  decks  that  loomed  twenty  feet  above 
her. 

The  whole  thing  was  over  in  a  dozen  seconds, 
but  those  dozen  seconds  are  stamped  on  Tom 
Granger's  mind  as  clearly  as  though  they  were 
chiseled  in  marble.  Even  now,  though  he  is  over 
eighty  years  old,  he  can  see  that  great  frigate  rising 
higher  and  higher  as  she  surges  forward,  towering 
over  the  little  ship,  while  a  hundred  faces  pop  up 
above  the  rail  and  stare  down  upon  her  decks.  It 
was  only  a  moment — a  thread  of  time — on  which 


72  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

hung  the  chance  as  to  whether  she  would  clear  or 
not.  There  was  a  thunderous  roar  of  the  waters 
under  the  bow,  flung  back  in  an  echo  from  the 
wooden  walls  of  the  frigate ;  there  was  a  vision  of 
open  ports  rushing  by,  and  of  scared  faces  crowded 
at  them,  in  spite  of  discipline ;  then  the  frigate  was 
astern  and  the  danger  gone  past  with  her.  But  in 
that  short  moment  of  passing  they  saw  enough  to 
make  them  know  that  she  was  a  British  cruiser. 

I  say  again  that  if  Jack  Baldwin  had  not  had  the 
deck  at  that  time  there  would  never  have  been  any 
story  to  tell  of  Tom  Granger,  for  if  Jack  had  hesi- 
tated only  so  much  as  two  seconds,  as  I  am  afraid 
that  Tom  would  have  done  in  his  case,  the  Nancy 
Hazlewood  would  have  been  run  down  just  as  sure 
as  that  there  is  a  sun  in  the  heavens. 

So  the  danger  went  by,  and  all  was  over  in  a 
quarter  of  the  time  that  it  takes  to  tell  it.  The 
head-yards  were  braced  up,  the  head-sheets  were 
gathered  aft,  the  Nancy  Hazleivood  stood  away  on 
her  course  again,  and  the  next  moment  plunged 
into  the  fog  and  was  gone. 

But,  in  the  meantime,  they  had  wakened  up 
aboard  of  the  frigate,  and  just  as  the  Nancy  Hazle- 
wood  ran  into  the  bank  they  heard  an  order 
shouted  aboard  of  the  man-of-war,  sounding  faint 
because  of  the  distance  that  the  two  vessels  had 
now  run : 

"  Weather  head,  and  main ;  lee  cro'  jack  braces ! " 

That  meant  that  the  frigate  was  about  to  wear, 
follow  down  in  their  wake  and  do  that  which  she 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  73 

had  so  nearly  missed  doing  a  minute  before — 
finish  up  the  Yankee. 

Tom  came  aft,  and,  though  he  would  have  felt 
like  knocking  the  man  down  that  would  have  said 
so  at  the  time,  his  hands  were  cold  and  trembling 
nervously.  For  the  matter  of  that,  Jack  Baldwin's 
face  was  whiter  than  it  was  used  to  be.  "A  close 
shave,  sir,"  said  he  to  Captain  Knight,  who  stood 
beside  him ;  but  there  was  a  nervous  tremor  in  his 
voice  in  spite  of  the  boldness  that  he  assumed. 
Indeed,  the  only  perfectly  cool  man  aboard  was 
Captain  Knight.  He  stood  looking  aft,  as  though 
he  would  pierce  the  fog  and  make  out  what  the 
vessel  astern  of  him  was  about. 

Presently  he  turned  to  Jack.  "Did  you  not 
understand  from  that  order  that  he  was  about  to 
ware  ship,  Mr.  Baldwin  ?  "  said  he. 

"  I  think  that  I  understood  them  to  give  such  an 
order,  sir,"  said  Jack. 

Captain  Knight  drew  out  his  snuff  box  and  took 
a  pinch  of  snuff.  "  I  understood  it  so,"  said  he, 
shutting  the  lid  of  the  box  with  a  snap  and  sliding  it 
into  his  pocket  again.  He  stood  for  about  a  couple 
of  minutes  looking,  now  up  at  the  sails  and  now 
straight  ahead ;  presently  he  turned  to  Jack  again. 

"  Bring  her  by  the  wind  on  the  starboard  tack, 
Mr.  Baldwin,"  said  he.  "We'll  slip  out  of  this 
neighborhood  on  somewhat  the  same  course  that 
the  Englishman  held  a  few  minutes  ago,  and  leave 
him  groping  about  here  in  this  infernal  blindness 
for  us.M 


74  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

It  seemed  to  Tom  that  Captain  Knight  had  done 
a  wise  thing  in  taking  the  course  that  he  did  to  get 
away  from  the  Englishman.  If  the  fog  should  lift, 
and  they  should  find  that  the  frigate  had  the 
weather  gauge,  they  might  get  into  a  nasty  pickle, 
whereas  this  course  would  give  them  the  weather 
gauge  and  every  chance  to  get  away. 

After  a  while  Captain  Knight  told  Jack  to  set 
the  fore-topmast  stay  sail,  and  then,  after  some 
hesitation,  to  set  the  royals.  It  was  quite  plain 
that  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  crack  on  sail,  so 
as  to  gain  as  much  to  the  windward  of  the  frigate 
as  he  could. 

The  Nancy  Hazlewood  was  now  sailing  close- 
hauled,  and  was  as  pretty  a  sight  as  one  could  wish 
to  see.  The  wind  was  blowing  stiffly,  as  it  had 
done  for  some  time.  It  had  not  increased  to  any 
account,  though  the  scud  was  beginning  to  fly 
across  the  sky,  and  there  was  every  prospect  of  its 
blowing  heavily  before  morning.  So  the  Nancy 
Hazlewood  went  bowling  along  on  this  wind,  her 
bows  every  now  and  then  flinging  a  roaring  sea 
from  her  in  an  ocean  of  foam.  She  was  careened 
over  so  that  the  sea  eddied  around  the  lee  scuppers, 
and  her  copper  bottom  showed  red  in  the  green 
waters.  On  she  went,  bouncing  from  sea  to  sea,  as 
a  ball  bounces  -when  it  is  rolled  across  the  ground. 
The  top-gallant  masts  were  bent  like  a  bow,  and 
the  weather  backstays  were  as  taut  as  the  bow- 
string, those  on  the  lee  bowing  out  gracefully  before 
the  wind,  The  cloud  of  sails  were  bellied  big  and 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  75 

round,  and  were  as  hard  as  iron,  and  altogether,  as 
was  said,  the  Nancy  Hazlewood  was  as  pretty  a 
sight  as  one  could  wish  to  see. 

About  two  bells  in  the  first  watch  Captain  Knight 
gave  orders  that  the  ship  should  be  put  about,  and 
running  two  points  free  on  the  starboard  tack, 
stood  off  to  the  S.  E. 

This,  as  has  been  said,  was  one  of  the  narrowest 
shaves  that  Tom  Granger  ever  had  for  his  life,  and 
as  long  as  he  shall  remember  anything  he  will 
never  forget  that  half-minute  when  the  British 
frigate  was  coming  down  upon  them  under  full  sail, 
with  death  at  the  helm. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  next  morning,  when  Tom  came  upon  deck, 
he  found  that  the  wind  had  increased  to  half 
a  gale.  It  was  a  dreary  sight.  The  sky  was  heavy 
and  leaden,  and  the  sea  was  like  liquid  lead,  for, 
when  the  sky  is  dull,  like  it  was  that  morning,  it 
seems  as  though  one  could  almost  walk  over  the 
surface  of  the  ocean,  so  hard  does  it  look,  and  so 
lacking  of  depth,  excepting  where  the  crest  of  the 
wave  sharpens  just  before  it  breaks. 

The  Nancy  Hazlcwood  showed  that  she  was  a 
very  wet  ship,  for  her  decks  were  covered  with 
water,  that  ran  swashing  from  side  to  side.  She 
would  roll  well  over  on  her  side,  like  a  log,  and 
scoop  in  the  top  of  a  wave,  that  would  rush  back- 
ward and  forward  across  the  deck  until  it  had  run 
out  of  the  scupper  holes ;  but  before  it  was  fairly 
gone  another  sea  would  come,  so  that  the  decks 
were  never  free  of  water.  Not  only  was  the  ship 
laboring  strangely,  but  she  was  yawing  so  that  two 
men  at  the  wheel  could  hardly  keep  her  to  her 
course. 

Jack  was  standing  on  the  poop,  anxious  and 
troubled.  Tom  stood  beside  him,  but  neither  of 


WITHIN  7 SIR  C4P^6*.  77 

them  spoke  for  a  while,  both  being  sunk  in  deep 
thought. 

"  Tom,"  said  Jack,  at  last,  in  a  low  voice,  "  I've 
sailed  in  a  many  ships  in  my  time,  but  I  never  saw 
one  behave  like  this.  She  bothers  me ;  I  don't 
know  what  to  make  of  her."  He  paused  for  a 
moment,  and  then  he  clapped  his  hand  to  his  thigh. 
"  D — n  it,"  said  he,  "  she  ain't  either  equipped  or 
stowed  in  a  fit  way.  She  ought  never  to  have  put 
out  from  Lewestown  Harbor  in  her  condition,  and, 
without  I'm  much  mistaken,  we'll  find  that  out 
long  before  we  reach  Key  West." 

Then  he  turned  over  the  orders  and  went  below 
to  get  his  breakfast,  leaving  Tom  in  charge  of  the 
deck. 

The  day  passed  without  especial  event,  and  that 
night  at  the  mid-watch  Tom  turned  in  to  get  a  little 
sleep.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he  had  hardly  closed 
his  eyes  when  he  was  aroused  by  the  sound  of  the 
boatswain's  voice  ringing,  as  it  were,  in  his  very 
ears : 

"  All  hands  reef  topsails  !  " 

Tom  tumbled  out  of  his  bunk  and  stood  on  the 
cabin  floor.  There  was  a  noise  of  pounding  and 
grinding  alongside,  and  the  decks  were  careened, 
so  that  the  first  thought  that  occurred  to  him  was 
that  the  ship  was  foundering.  He  ran  up  on  deck 
without  stopping  a  moment,  for  there  was  a  vibra- 
tion in  the  boatswain's  voice  that  told  him  that 
something  serious  had  befallen. 

The  gale  had  increased  with  a  sudden  and  heavy 


78  WITHIN  THE  CAPES 

squall,  and  the  maintop-gallant-mast  had  gone  by 
the  board.  It  was  hanging  alongside,  a  tangled 
wreck,  and  it  was  the  thumping  and  grinding  of 
this  that  Tom  had  heard  when  he  had  first  opened 
his  eyes.  A  dozen  men  were  at  work  cutting  away 
the  wreck,  and  Tom  jumped  to  help  them.  At 
last  it  drifted  away  astern,  a  tangled  mass  on  the 
surface  of  grey  foam. 

All  around  them  were  seas,  ten  or  fifteen  feet 
high,  shining  with  phosphorescent  crests,  moving 
solemnly  forward  with  their  black  weight  of  thous- 
ands of  tons  of  solid  water.  Amongst  these  the 
little  ship  labored  like  a  living  thing  in  pain.  The 
men  ran  up  aloft,  and  Jack,  trumpet  to  mouth, 
bellowed  orders  that  rang  above  all  the  thunder  of 
the  gale.  Presently  the  sails  were  clapping  and 
thundering  in  the  darkness  above,  as  the  men 
wrestled  with  them.  Now  and  then  voices  were  to 
be  heard  through  all  the  roaring  of  the  waters  and 
the  howling  of  the  wind :  "  Haul  out  to  windward  ! " 
and  "  Light  out  to  leeward  !" — an  uproar  of  noises 
that  one  never  hears  excepting  on  shipboard,  and 
at  such  a  time. 

Day  broke  with  the  storm  blowing  as  furiously 
as  ever.  Tom  was  officer  of  the  deck,  when,  about 
ten  o'clock,  Maul,  the  carpenter,  came  aft  to  where 
he  was  standing.  He  was  a  fine-looking  fellow, 
broad-shouldered  and  deep-chested.  He  chucked 
his  thumb  up  to  his  forehead,  and,  shifting  the  quid 
of  tobacco  from  one  cheek  to  the  other,  told  Tom 
that  which  sent  a  thrill  shivering  through  him : 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  79 

"  Ten  inches  of  water  in  the  well,  sir." 

The  pumps  sucked  at  five  inches,  so  the  Nancy 
Hazlewood  had  made  five  inches  of  water  in  the 
last  hour. 

"  I  was  afraid  it  would  come,"  said  Tom  to  him- 
self, and  then  he  went  and  reported  it  to  the 
captain,  for,  though  the  leak  was  not  of  much 
account  as  regarded  size,  it  was  as  dangerous  as  it 
was  sudden. 

"  Man  the  pumps,  sir,"  was  all  that  the  captain 
said. 

Before  very  long  the  pumps  sucked,  and  the  men 
gave  a  cheer.  So  far  all  was  well  enough.  But  an 
hour  afterward  the  carpenter  came  aft  and  reported 
that  there  was  a  little  less  than  thirteen  inches  of 
water  in  the  well.  Captain  Knight,  and  Tom,  and 
Jack  were  standing  near  together  on  the  poop  at 
the  time. 

"  Man  the  pumps,"  was  all  that  the  captain  said, 
and  then  he  moved  away. 

"Jack,"  said  Tom,  in  a  low  voice,  "this  looks 
ugly." 

"  You're  right ;  it  does,"  said  Jack. 

There  was  a  cold,  dull  rain  blowing  slantwise 
across  the  ocean  at  that  time,  which  shut  in  every- 
thing to  within  a  mile  or  two  of  the  ship.  The 
gale  had  moderated  but  little,  but  now,  through  all 
the  roaring,  you  could  hear  the  regular  thump, 
thump  of  the  pumps,  where  two  lines  of  men  were 
working  at  the  brakes.  Every  now  and  then  the 
sound  of  the  pumping  would  stop  with  the  sucking 


80  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

of  water,  but  presently  it  would  begin  again — 
thump !  thump !  thump  !  thump  !  When  evening 
came  the  sound  was  unceasing,  for  at  that  time 
they  were  not  pumping  the  water  out  of  the  ship  as 
fast  as  she  was  making  it. 

The  last  thing  that  Tom  heard  that  night  was 
the  continuous  thumping,  and  it  was  the  first  thing 
that  met  his  ears  when  he  opened  his  eyes  again. 
He  went  up  on  deck,  and  when  he  looked  around 
him  his  heart  fell  within  him.  Half  of  the  maintop- 
sail  was  blown  away,  the  shreds  standing  straight 
out  with  the  force  of  the  wind.  There  was  a  great 
deal  of  water  on  the  deck — perhaps  never  less  than 
three  feet  on  the  lee  side. 

She  was  not  taking  much  water  over  the  weather 
rail,  but  she  would  take  it  to  leeward,  and  then  roll 
to  windward,  and  the  sea  would  go  rushing  across 
the  deck,  carrying  everything  before  it. 

That  afternoon  he  stood  on  the  poop  deck 
looking  over  the  side  of  the  vessel  She  was 
rolling  with  a  dull,  heavy  motion  from  side  to  side ; 
it  was  just  such  a  motion  as  a  log  in  a  mill  pond 
will  take  if  you  give  it  a  push  with  your  foot.  He 
looked  first  astern,  and  then  forward,  and  he  saw 
that  the  stern  was  deeper  in  the  water  than  the 
bows.  Just  then  he  felt  a  hand  on  his  shoulder; 
he  looked  up  and  saw  that  it  was  Jack  Baldwin. 

"Tom,"  said  he,  in  a  low  voice. 

"What  is  it,  Jack?" 

"I've  been  looking  too;  do  you  know  that  the 
ship's  foundering  ?" 


WITHIN  THE  CAP£S>  Si 

Tom  nodded  his  head,  for  he  did  not  feel  like 
speaking. 

"Tom,"  said  Jack,  after  a  moment  of  silence; 
"what  do  you  suppose  is  the  reason  that  Captain 
Knight  don't  give  orders  to  have  the  boats  cleared 
away,  ready  for  lowering." 

"Perhaps  he  don't  think  it's  time;  the  ship'll 
last  a  good  while  longer  yet,  Jack." 

"  Do  you  think  that's  his  reason,  Tom  ?"  said  Jack. 

Tom  did  not  answer. 

"  I  see  you  don't.  Look  here,  Tom ;  do  you 
want  to  know  what  I'm  beginning  to  think  ?  It's 
this, — that  he  don't  intend  to  let  a  man  leave  this 
ship,  if  he  can't  bring  her  to  Key  West !  " 

"  For  God's  sake,  don't  breathe  a  word  of  that  in 
the  men's  hearing,  Jack.  You  can't  believe  what 
you  say." 

"What  did  Captain  Sedgwick  do  last  November?" 

Tom  did  not  answer;  he  knew  that  story  only 
too  well.  Captain  Sedgwick,  of  the  privateersman 
Mirabel,  had  fallen  in  with  a  British  cruiser  off 
Barnegat ;  had  been  crippled  by  her,  and  had  blown 
up  his  ship  and  all  hands  on  board,  so  that  she 
might  not  fall  into  the  Englishman's  hands.  Three 
men  out  of  one  hundred  and  eighteen  had  come  off 
with  their  lives. 

"For  heaven's  sake,  Jack,  don't  breathe  a  word 
of  this  to  the  crew ! "  said  Tom  again,  and  then  he 
turned  away. 

As  the  day  wore  along,  things  looked  more  and 
more  gloomy. 

6 


82  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

About  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  a  sound  fell 
on  their  ears,  that  thrilled  through  every  man  on 
board.  It  was  the  voice  of  the  lookout,  roaring, — 
"Sail  ho!" 

"Where  away?"  sang  out  Jack. 

"Two  points  on  the  port  bow,"  came  the  answer. 

Most  of  the  crew  ran  to  the  side  of  the  vessel,  as 
did  the  men  at  the  brakes.  Tom  did  not  order 
them  back,  for  he  saw  that  there  would  be  no  use 
in  doing  so. 

As  the  day  had  worn  along,  the  discipline  of  the 
ship  had  begun  to  go  pretty  much  to  pieces,  and 
there  had  been  great  difficulty  in  keeping  the  men 
at  the  brakes.  I  think  that  they,  like  Jack  and 
Tom,  had  gotten  a  notion  that  the  ship  was 
doomed,  for,  though  they  worked  when  they  were 
ordered,  it  was  in  a  dull,  stolid  way,  as  though  they 
had  no  interest  in  it  one  way  or  another.  Tom 
had  tried  to  do  all  that  lay  in  him  to  keep  them 
going,  and  I  think  that  it  was  only  through  his 
urging  that  they  were  kept  at  it  at  all. 

So  now  they  all  left  the  pumps  and  ran  to  the 
side  of  the  vessel  to  get  a  look  at  the  sail. 

At  first  it  was  seen  like  a  flickering  speck  in  the 
dull,  grey  distance,  but  it  presently  rose  higher  and 
higher  as  the  Nancy  Hazlewood  held  on  her  course. 
Jack  Baldwin  was  on  the  poop  when  the  vessel  was 
first  sighted;  he  did  not  lose  a  moment,  but  went 
straightway  and  reported  it  to  the  captain,  who 
presently  came  upon  deck  from  his  cabin.  He  had 
wound  a  red  scarf  about  his  waist,  and  had  thrust 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  83 

a  brace  of  large  pistols  in  it.  There  was  an  odd 
look  about  him,  that  at  first  led  Tom  to  think  that 
he  had  been  drinking,  but  he  soon  found  that 
he  was  wrong.  Whatever  it  was  that  had  led 
him  to  rig  himself  up  in  this  style,  it  was  not 
drink. 

He  stood  silently  with  the  glass  at  his  eye, 
looking  at  the  distant  sail  that  the  Nancy  Hazlewood 
was  slowly  raising  above  the  horizon.  He  did  not 
seem  to  notice  that  the  men  had  left  the  pumps ;  at 
least  he  made  no  remark  upon  it.  Minute  after 
minute  passed,  until  at  last  the  hull  of  the  vessel 
hove  in  sight  and  showed  her  to  be  a  large  barque — - 
apparently,  from  the  cut  of  her  sails,  an  English 
merchantman.  She  came  within  about  three  miles 
of  them,  but  Captain  Knight  neither  gave  orders  to 
have  the  course  of  the  Hazlewood  altered,  or  signals 
of  distress  run  up.  Every  moment  Tom  expected 
to  hear  such  an  order,  but  none  passed  the  captain's 
lips.  Presently,  he  shut  the  tube  of  the  glass 
sharply,  and  then  he  spoke. 

"  She's  too  large  for  us  to  tackle  in  our  present 
condition,"  said  he. 

"  Tackle  ! "  burst  out  Jack.  "  My  G— d  !  You 
didn't  think  of  fighting  that  vessel,  did  you  ?" 

Captain  Knight  turned  sharply  upon  him,  as 
though  he  were  about  to  say  something;  but  he 
seemed  to  think  better  of  it,  for  he  swung  on  his 
heel,  as  though  to  enter  his  cabin  again. 

Then  Jack  Baldwin  strode  directly  up  to  him. 
"  Captain  Knight,"  said  he,  and  he  did  not  so  much 


84  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

as  touch  his  hat,  "  a'n't  you  going  to  signal  that 
vessel  ?  " 

His  voice  rang  like  a  bell,  and  every  man  aboard 
of  the  sinking  ship  heard  it,  and  listened  eagerly  for 
the  captain's  answer.  Captain  Knight  stood  where 
he  was,  and  looked  Jack  from  top  to  toe,  and  back 
again. 

"  No,  sir,"  said  he,  coldly,  "  I  am  not  going  to 
signal  that  vessel." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you're  going  to 
drown  every  man  aboard  this  ship,  as  you  might  a 
cage  full  of  rats,  just  because  you're  too  proud  to 
signal  an  Englishman." 

Captain  Knight  made  no  answer;  he  only  looked 
at  Jack  and  smiled,  and  Tom  Granger  thought  that 
it  was  as  wicked  a  smile  as  he  had  ever  seen  in  all 
of  his  life. 

"Now,  by  the  eternal,"  roared  Jack,  "  I'll  run  the 
signals  up  myself! " 

"  You'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  said  Captain 
Knight.  He  spoke  very  quietly,  but  his  face  was 
as  white  as  the  other's  was  red. 

"  Won't  I  ?  That  you'll  see,"  said  Jack,  passion- 
ately, and  he  made  a  movement  to  turn. 

"  Wait  a  moment,  sir,"  said  the  captain,  in  his 
quiet  voice.  But  the  words  were  hardly  out  of  his 
mouth,  when,  as  quick  as  a  flash,  a  pistol  was 
leveled  at  Jack's  head,  with  a  pair  of  wicked  grey 
eyes  behind  it. 

There  was  a  dead  pause  for  about  as  long  as  you 
could  count  ten;  the  captain's  finger  lay  on  the 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  85 

trigger,  and  every  instant  Tom  expected  to  see  the 
flash  that  was  to  come.  He  held  his  breath,  for 
there  was  death  in  the  captain's  eyes,  but  he  did 
not  draw  the  trigger. 

It  was  Tom  that  broke  the  silence.  "  For  God's 
sake,  don't  shoot,  captain,"  cried  he,  from  where  he 
stood.  The  captain  did  not  seem  to  hear  him. 

"You  mutinous  scoundrel,"  said  he  at  last, 
"  down  on  your  knees  and  ask  pardon !  " 

Jack  did  not  move. 

"  You  hear  me  ?  Down  on  your  knees  and  ask 
pardon,  or  you're  a  dead  man!" 

He  spoke  as  quietly  as  ever,  but  there  was  a 
deadly  ring  in  his  voice  for  all  that. 

"  I'll  give  you  till  I  count  three,"  said  he,  at  last, 
and  then  he  began  to  count,  "  one, — two — " 

Jack  looked  around,  with  despair  in  his  eyes. 
The  captain  smiled.  "  Stand  where  you  are,"  said 
he,  and  then  his  teeth  and  tongue  began  to  form 
the  "  th— " 

Jack  Baldwin  was  no  coward;  but  would  you 
yourself  have  stood  still  and  be  shot  down  like  a 
dog  ?  It  would  have  been  a  brave  man  indeed — a 
foolishly  brave  man — that  would  have  done  such  a 
thing.  I  will  not  tell  the  rest.  It  is  enough  to  say 
that  Jack  did  do  that  which  the  captain  ordered 
him,  and  that  before  the  whole  ship's  company. 

"  You  are  wise,"  said  Captain  Knight,  dryly,  and 
then  he  thrust  the  pistol  back  again  into  his  belt, 
and,  turning  on  his  heel,  went  into  his  cabin. 

Jack  got  up  slowly  from  his  knees.     His  face 


86  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

was  haggard  and  drawn.  He  looked  at  no  one,  but 
went  to  the  side  of  the  ship  and  stood  gazing  into 
the  water.  Tom  saw  him  a  half  an  hour  after- 
ward, standing  just  in  the  same  way,  and  in  the 
same  place. 

When  the  captain  had  gone  into  his  cabin,  Tom 

turned  to  the  pumps  again.  "  Shake  her  up  ! 

your  eyes  !  Shake  her  up  !"  roared  he. 

It  was  the  first  time  that  he  ever  used  an  oath  to 
the  men  under  him,  and  it  is  hard  to  tell  why  he 
used  it  then,  for  in  his  heart  he  did  not  believe  that 
he  was  long  for  this  life.  Then  the  men  fell  to 
pumping  again,  but  what  little  life  they  had  left  was 
all  gone  out  of  them  now. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

HHHAT  evening  Tom  took  a  scrambling  meal  in 
L  the  cuddy;  it  was  the  last  that  he  had  aboard 
of  the  Nancy  Hazlewood. 

The  darkness  came  on  early,  and  the  wind  still 
held  as  heavy  as  ever  when  night  fell.  At  that 
time  the  ship  was  very  low  in  the  water  astern,  and 
Tom  did  not  expect  her  to  live  till  morning.  Even 
to  this  day  it  is  a  mystery  to  him  why  she  did  not 
founder  long  before  she  did. 

It  was  plain  that  even  the  sailors  themselves  felt 
that  there  was  no  hope ;  they  were  dull,  lifeless  and 
spiritless.  Those  who  were  not  working  at  the 
pumps,  stood  around  the  forecastle,  or  lay  in  their 
hammocks ;  all  were  quiet,  excepting  where  one  or 
two  were  talking  together  in  low  tones. 

Of  course,  there  was  no  sleep  to  be  had  for  Tom 
that  night.  He  had  stood  by  the  pumps  since 
early  in  the  morning,  and  was  nearly  exhausted, 
for  there  were  times  when  he  could  feel  the  water 
washing  around  his  waist.  One  after  another  the 
men  would  drop  the  brakes,  altogether  done  up, 
but  there  was  no  chance  for  him  to  leave  his  station 
and  get  a  little  rest.  Jack  had  done  nothing  since 


88  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

his  encounter  with  Captain  Knight,  the  afternoon 
before.  Captain  Knight  himself  did  not  come  out 
of  his  cabin,  so  Tom  seemed  to  be  the  only  officer 
in  charge  of  the  ship. 

"  Shake  her  up,  lads !  Shake  her  up ! "  cried  he, 
whenever  there  were  signs  of  flagging  at  the 
pumps,  and  he  repeated  these  words  so  often  that 
he  began  to  say  them  mechanically. 

So  the  weary  night  dragged  slowly  along,  and  at 
last  the  dull  light  of  the  morning  came,  and  the 
Nancy  Hazlewood  was  still  afloat.  One  by  one  the 
things  stood  out  in  the  pallid  light  of  the  dawning ; 
first  of  all  the  black  troubled  field  of  water  was 
seen,  sharply  marked  against  the  slowly  greying 
sky;  then  came  a  faint  light  across  the  flooded 
deck,  against  which  the  men  stood  out  as  black  as 
ink,  as  they  worked  at  the  pumps. 

About  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning  Captain 
Knight  came  upon  deck  again.  He,  Jack  Baldwin, 
Mr.  Wilde  (the  surgeon),  the  boatswain  and  one  or 
two  of  the  men  were  standing  on  the  poop  together. 
No  attention  was  paid  to  these  men  standing  aft  the 
quarter  deck,  and  Tom  could  not  see  that  any 
orders  were  given,  for  the  helm  was  lashed,  keeping 
the  vessel  before  the  wind. 

Tom  left  the  pumps  for  a  minute  or  two,  and 
slipped  into  the  cuddy  for  a  dram  of  rum,  which 
he  very  much  needed.  He  found  that  the  cuddy 
was  awash  with  several  inches  of  water.  He  took 
the  dram  of  rum,  and  then  looking  around  his 
state  room  he  saw  his  sea-chest,  and  opened  it  and 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  89 

took  out  his  watch  and  purse.  He  slipped  the 
watch  into  his  pocket,  but  the  ship  giving  a  sudden 
lurch  at  the  time,  he  dropped  his  purse.  He 
smiled  when  he  found  himself  groping  in  the 
swashing  water  for  it,  for  he  could  not  take  it  with 
him  where  he  expected  that  he  would  have  to  go. 

The  men  had  left  the  pumps  when  he  came  upon 
deck  again.  A  crowd  of  them  were  standing  fore- 
ward,  some  on  the  top-gallant  forecastle.  There 
was  no  drunkenness  amongst  them,  and  Tom  found 
later  that  the  spirit-room  had  been  fastened  securely, 
and  in  good  time,  which  was  about  the  only  timely 
thing  that  was  done  in  the  whole  business.  He 
did  not  order  them  to  work  again,  for  there  could 
be  no  use  in  it.  Indeed,  there  had  been  but  little 
use  in  it  for  some  time  past,  and  the  only  reason 
that  he  had  kept  the  pumps  going  was  because  it 
seemed  better  to  be  doing  something  than  to  stand 
still,  waiting  for  death.  But  Captain  Knight  gave 
no  orders  to  lower  the  boats,  and  Jack  Baldwin  did 
not  seem  to  care  whether  they  were  lowered  or  not. 

At  this  time  there  were  only  two  boats  left.  The 
whale-boat  had  been  stove  in  the  night  before,  and 

o 

all  of  the  cutters  were  gone  but  one.  A  part  of 
one  of  them  was  hanging  by  the  stern  falls  from  the 
davits.  The  mate  to  it  was  good,  however,  and, 
with  a  pinnace,  capable  of  holding  maybe  thirty 
men  at  a  pinch,  was  all  that  was  left  of  the  six 
boats  that  the  Nancy  Hazlcwood  had  carried  with 
her  when  she  first  started  on  her  cruise. 
Tom  saw  that  there  was  no  prospect  of  Captain 


90  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

Knight's  giving  the  order  to  have  the  boats  cleared 
away,  so  he  went  aft  to  the  poop,  where  the  captain 
stood,  and  touched  his  hat  to  him  very  respectfully. 

"  Captain  Knight,"  said  he,  "  the  ship's  sinking, 
and  I  can't  keep  the  men  at  their  work  any  longer. 
Shall  I  get  the  boats  cleared  away  ?  " 

"  They  won't  work,  you  say  ?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

The  captain  took  a  pinch  of  snuff  "  Then  let 
'em  drown,  and  be  d — d  to  'em — the  mutinous 
dogs,"  said  he.  And  he  shut  the  snuff-box  lid  with 
a  snap. 

"  But,  captain — "  began  Tom. 

"  Mr.  Granger,"  said  the  captain,  sternly,  "I  wish 
to  hear  no  more.  When  I  want  to  have  the  boats 
lowered  I'll  give  the  orders,  and  not  till  then.  You 
hear  me  ?" 

Tom  turned  away,  sick  at  heart.  He  still  hoped 
that  the  captain  meant  to  have  the  boats  cleared 
away,  but  in  his  heart  he  felt  that  he  intended 
nothing  of  the  kind.  The  men  had  gathered  aft 
when  they  saw  that  Tom  was  talking  to  the  captain. 
When  they  heard  what  came  of  it,  a  deep  groan 
arose  from  them. 

About  half  an  hour  passed,  and  nothing  was 
done.  At  the  end  of  that  time  a  number  of  men 
who  had  been  talking  together,  went  over  to  the 
pinnace  and  began  clearing  it  away,  and  Tom  saw 
that  they  were  about  to  lower  it. 

Nothing  was  said  to  them  at  the  time,  and  no 
$rje  interfered  with  them.  He  went  forward  to 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  91 

where  they  were  at  work,  after  a  while,  for  he  felt 
that  he  might  be  of  some  use  to  them.  The  boats- 
wain was  amongst  them,  and  he  asked  him  to  join 
them,  as  they  needed  an  officer.  But  Tom  shook 
his  head,  for  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  leave  the 
ship.  It  was  false  pride  on  his  part,  for  he  should 
have  gone  and  have  done  what  he  could.  If  Jack 
Baldwin  would  only  have  lent  a  hand  with  the 
other  boat,  he  would  not  have  hesitated,  I  think. 

Well,  it  was  a  misfortunate  piece  of  business, 
and  there  is  no  use  in  making  more  of  it  than  need 
be.  The  boat  was  lowered  safely  enough ;  but,  in 
spite  of  all  that  Tom  could  do,  a  number  of  the 
crew,  maybe  thirty  or  more,  jumped  into  her  from 
the  ship,  and  she  was  swamped  almost  immediately. 
Most  of  the  men  came  climbing  back  again;  but, 
to  the  best  of  Tom's  recollection,  eight  or  ten  of 
them  were  drowned  at  this  time.  No  one  but  he 
seemed  to  care  very  much  for  this ;  no  doubt  they 
felt  that  it  was  only  a  question  of  a  few  minutes, 
earlier  or  later. 

When  Tom  went  back  to  the  poop,  Captain 
Knight  met  him  with  a  sneering  smile.  "  You  had 
better  have  let  the  matter  alone,  Mr.  Granger," 
said  he  ;  "  their  blood  be  on  your  head." 

Now,  Tom  had  put  all  the  restraint  upon  himself 
that  he  could.  He  had  felt  all  the  blunders  and 
mismanagement  that  had  brought  them  to  this  pass 
as  deeply  as  ever  Jack  Baldwin  could  have  done, 
and  had  also  felt  that  most  of  the  fault  lay  at 
Captain  Knight's  door,  but  he  had  never  been  any- 


92  WITHIN  THE   CAPES. 

thing  but  respectful  to  the  captain,  nor  had  he  ever 
let  a  questionable  word  pass  his  lips.  But  now, 
feeling  the  loss  of  the  poor  devils  that  had  been 
drowned  in  the  pinnace  resting  heavily  on  his  mind, 
this  speech  was  too  much  for  his  patience.  He 
walked  straight  up  to  Captain  Knight  and  looked 
him  squarely  in  the  eyes. 

The  captain  looked  back  at  him  for  a  little  while, 
but  presently  his  eyes  wavered,  and  he  turned  them 
aside.  Then  it  was  that  a  certain  vague  thought 
that  had  been  floating  about  in  Tom's  mind,  took 
shape  and  form.  At  first  he  rejected  the  thought, 
but  the  longer  he  looked  upon  Captain  Knight  the 
more  he  felt  sure  that  his  surmise  was  right.  At 
last  he  spoke : 

"  Look  here,  sir,"  said  he,  sternly,  "  you're  not  fit 
to  be  where  you  are.  You're  not  in  your  right 
mind — you're  crazy." 

Captain  Knight  looked  up.  His  face  was  white 
and  his  eyes  uncertain,  and,  for  the  first  time,  Tom 
noticed  how  bloodshot  they  were.  Tom  was  stand- 
ing within  arm's  length  of  him,  and  presently  he  saw 
that  his  fingers  were  sliding  furtively  toward  the 
pistol  in  his  belt.  Tom  kept  his  eyes  fixed  upon  him. 

"Take  care,"  said  he,  as  quietly  as  he  could, 
"  don't  touch  that  pistol." 

Then  Captain  Knight  drew  his  fingers  away. 
"  You  mutinous  scoundrel ! "  whispered  he,  in  a 
trembling  voice.  But  he  did  not  look  directly  at 
Tom  when  he  spoke ;  neither  did  he  again  attempt 
to  draw  a  pistol. 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  93 

Tom  stood  looking  at  him  without  a  word  for 
maybe  half  a  minute.  He  felt  that  if  he  turned  his 
eyes  away  for  so  much  as  a  second,  he  was  a  dead 
man.  So  he  stood  without  moving.  At  last  he 
spoke  again : 

"  Captain  Knight,  give  me  that  pistol." 

The  captain  looked  from  side  to  side. 

"  Captain  Knight,  give  me  that  pistol,"  he  re- 
peated, and  very  sternly.  He  held  out  his  left  hand 
as  he  spoke.  His  right  was  clenched,  and  if  the 
captain  had  made  a  dangerous  movement,  he  would 
have  smitten  him  down  where  he  stood.  Captain 
Knight  looked  up  for  an  instant.  He  must  have 
seen  the  resolve  in  Tom's  face,  for  he  slowly  drew 
out  the  pistol  and  put  it  into  his  hand. 

"  Now  give  me  the  other,"  said  Tom.  And  once 
more  the  captain  did  as  he  was  bidden.  Tom  went 
to  the  side  of  the  ship  and  threw  both  pistols  over- 
board. When  he  turned  around  the  captain  had 
gone  into  his  cabin.  Tom  never  saw  him  again. 

It  was  not  till  all  was  over  that  he  felt  what  he 
had  passed  through.  So  long  as  he  had  faced  the 
captain  his  purpose  had  kept  him  braced  to  what 
he  was  doing,  but  now  his  hands  were  cold  and 
trembling  nervously. 

All  of  the  ship's  crew  had  been  looking  on  at 
what  had  passed,  so  he  tried  to  appear  as  cool  as 
though  nothing  of  any  account  had  happened.  He 
went  up  to  where  Jack  Baldwin  was  standing. 
"  Jack,"  said  he  (but  his  voice  trembled  a  little  in 
spite  of  himself),  "you're  the  chief  officer  now. 


94  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

For  the  Lord's  sake,  give  orders  to  get  the  cutter 
cleared  away,  for  there's  no  time  to  lose." 

"  I'll  give  orders  when  I  choose,"  said  Jack, 
roughly,  and  he  swung  on  his  heel  and  strode  away. 

Tom  was  struck  all  aback,  for  he  could  not  think 
at  first  what  he  had  done  to  touch  Jack's  feelings. 
Presently  Jack  came  back  to  him  again.  He 
stopped  close  in  front  of  him,  and  folded  his  arms. 

"  Look'ee,  Tom  Granger,"  said  he,  "  I  suppose 
you  think  that  because  you  got  the  better  of  that 
d — d  sea  dandy,  you  can  get  the  better  of  me.  You 
needn't  think  that  you're  the  cock-of-the-walk  be- 
cause you  took  the  barkers  away  from  him.  I 
could  have  done  it  easy  enough,  if  he  hadn't  taken 
me  unawares.  I'll  not  deny  that  you  did  get  the 
better  of  him,  but  I  want  you  to  understand  that 
your  not  to  lord  it  over  me  on  that  account.  I'm 
the  chief  officer  here,  and  I'll  give  my  orders  to  you, 
and  not  take  them  from  you.  So  put  that  in  your 
pipe  and  smoke  it"  Then  he  turned  on  his  heel 
again  and  walked  away. 

But  Tom  had  caught  some  insight  into  Jack's 
mind,  and  he  could  not  but  feel  a  certain  contempt 
for  him,  for  this  was  no  time  for  little  jealousies  and 
heart-burnings.  He  did  not  say  anything  to  Jack, 
for  there  could  be  no  use  in  answering  such  a 
speech,  so  he  walked  to  the  mizzen-mast  without  a 
word,  and  stood  leaning  against  it,  looking  ahead. 
All  of  a  sudden  Jack  went  stumbling  down  the 
ladder  from  the  poop,  and  forward  amongst  the 
men.  Tom  saw  him  a  little  while  afterward,  talk- 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  95 

ing  to  the  boatswain,  and  then  he  knew  that  he 
was  thinking  of  lowering  the  cutter.  He  was  glad 
that  Jack  had  so  far  swallowed  his  ugly  pride,  for 
it  was  a  pity  that  all  of  the  men  aboard  of  the  ship 
should  drown,  when  some  of  them  might  get  safely 
away. 

I  say  that  he  was  glad,  but  there  was  a  bitter 
feeling,  too,  when  he  thought  of  others  being 
saved,  while  he  was  to  be  left  to  drown  like  a  rat  in 
a  box.  His  pride  would  not  let  him  run  away  from 
the  ship  to  take  his  chance  in  the  cutter,  but,  all 
the  same,  his  thoughts  were  very  bitter.  About 
this  time  he  saw  that  those  of  the  crew  not  at  work 
about  the  cutter  were  throwing  many  loose  things 
overboard.  He  saw  the  side  of  a  hen-coop  near  to 
the  ship ;  "  I  shall  keep  close  to  something  of  that 
kind  when  she  goes  down,"  said  he  to  himself. 
They  were  a  good  hundred  miles  from  land,  but 
the  thought  did  not  seem  as  foolish  to  him  then  as 
it  does  now,  for  a  man  clings  to  his  life  as  long  as 
he  is  able. 

Presently,  Jack  Baldwin  came  aft.  He  went  to 
the  laghings  of  the  wheel  and  put  the  helm  over,  so 
aa  to  give  the  cutter  a  lee,  but  he  never  looked  at 
Tom  for  3.  moment.  Just  as  he  was  about  to  leave 
the  poop,  however,  he  turned  suddenly,  and  came 
straight  across  the  deck  to  him. 

"Tom,"  said  he,  gruffly;  "will  you  take  a  try  in 
the  cutter  ?  " 

"Not  I,"  said  Tom. 

"Why  not?" 


$6  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

"One  officer's  enough  for  the  boat;  it  would  be 
cowardly  for  me  to  go ! "  He  spoke  bravely 
enough,  but  I  am  compelled  to  own  that  his 
courage  was  only  of  words,  and  not  of  heart. 

"Look'ee,  Tom  Granger,"  said  Jack,  fiercely; 
"  do  you  mean  to  say  that  I'm  a  coward  ?" 

"  I  mean  to  say  nothing  about  you,"  said  Tom, 
calmly;  "you  know  your  own  reasons  for  leaving 
the  ship  better  than  any  other  man.  If  you're 
going  for  the  sake  of  the  crew,  you're  no  coward ; 
if  you're  going  for  the  sake  of  your  own  skin,  you 
are." 

Jack  looked  him  very  hard  in  the  face  for  a 
moment  or  two.  "  See  here,  Tom,"  said  he,  at 
last;  "you  know  the  old  saying; — 'each  man  for 
himself,  and  the  devil  take  the  hindmost;'  don't  be 
a  fool ;  go  with  us,  you're  a  better  hand  at  managing 
a  boat  than  I  am." 

"  I  don't  care  to  go." 

"Very  well,  my  hearty;  suit  yourself,"  was  all 
that  Jack  said,  and  he  swung  on  his  heel,  and  left 
the  poop. 

Tom  saw  him  a  little  later  standing  beside  the 
cutter  with  a  heavy  iron  belaying  pin  in  his  hand, 
so  as  to  keep  the  men  from  crowding  into  the  boat. 
The  men  had  a  great  notion  of  Jack's  strength,  and 
maybe  it  was  this  that  kept  them  back,  for  Tom 
saw  no  movement  in  that  direction. 

About  five  or  ten  minutes  before  the  cutter  was 
lowered,  and  about  half-past  ten  or  eleven  o'clock 
in  the  morning  of  Thursday,  the  26th,  the  ship  was 


THE  CAPES.  97 

slowly  settling  by  the  stern.  Any  one  could  see 
that  there  was  a  great  change  in  the  last  half  of  an 
hour,  and  Tom  began  to  be  afraid  that  she  would 
founder  before  they  could  get  the  boat  away.  He 
went  forward  to  where  Jack  and  the  men  were 
busy  at  work. 

"  If  you  don't  lower  away  pretty  soon,  it'll  be  too 
late,  Jack,"  said  he. 

"Tom,"  said  Jack,  turning  to  him,  suddenly, 
"don't  be  a  bull-headed  loon  in  such  a  matter  as 
this.  Come,  and  take  your  chance  like  a  man; 
there's  a  place  in  the  cutter  yet,  for  I've  taken  care 
to  save  it  for  you." 

Poor  Tom  was  only  a  mortal  man,  and  his  life 
was  very  sweet  to  him  at  that  moment,  when  there 
seemed  so  great  a  chance  of  his  losing  it.  There- 
fore, he  could  not  screw  the  words  of  refusal  from 
his  lips; — he  could  only  shake  his  head. 

"You  won't  come?"  said  Jack. 

"  No ! "  roared  Tom ;  "  didn't  you  hear  me  say 
no?  Are  you  deaf ?  No!  I  tell  you;  no!  no!!" 

"Now,  by  the  eternal,  you  shall  go,  and  that 
whether  you  want  to  or  not !"  said  Jack,  and  as  he 
spoke,  he  flung  his  arms  around  Tom,  and  under- 
took to  drag  him  into  the  boat.  Jack  had  never 
measured  his  strength  with  Tom  before,  and  it  is 
altogether  likely  that  he  found  him  to  be  stronger 
than  he  had  any  notion  of,  for,  after  struggling 
with  him  for  a  little  while,  and  not  being  able  to 
throw  him  down  upon  the  deck,  he  presently  began 
singing  out  to  the  boatswain  to  come  and  lend  him 

7 


98  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

a  hand,  as  there  was  no  time  to  lose.  So  the 
boatswain  came,  and  in  a  short  time  they  had 
lashed  Tom's  arms  and  legs  so  that  he  could  not 
move.  As  soon  as  they  had  done  this,  they 
heaved  him  heels  over  head  into  the  cutter,  and 
then  stepped  in  themselves,  and  all  hands  lowered 
away  immediately. 

As  soon  as  the  boat  was  in  the  water,  it  began 
drawing  under  the  channel  of  the  ship,  and  was  in 
great  peril  of  being  stove,  but  the  boatswain  and 
two  others  got  out  oars,  and  shoved  her  off.  But 
no  sooner  had  they  pushed  the  cutter  away,  than 
she  began  drawing  in  again,  for  there  was  a  suction 
that  was  bringing  her  right  under  the  stern,  which 
would  have  been  sudden  death  to  every  man  in 
her,  so  they  brought  the  oars  to  bear  once  more. 
At  that  time  the  crew  of  the  cutter  seemed  more 
afraid  of  being  drawn  under  the  stern  of  the  ship 
than  of  too  many  men  jumping  into  the  boat;  for 
the  matter  of  that,  Tom  saw  only  one  attempt  to 
keep  any  of  the  crew  from  boarding,  and  that  was 
just  after  the  boat  had  been  lowered  into  the  water. 

A  poor  fellow  attempted  to  slide  down  the  falls 
from  the  davits,  but  the  boatswain  pushed  them  to 
one  side,  so  that  he  would  have  fallen  into  the  water 
if  he  had  tried  to  jump.  It  seemed  to  Tom  to  be  a 
horrible  thing  to  cut  away  the  last  chance  that  the 
poor  man  had  for  saving  his  life;  he  begged  hard 
for  him  as  he  hung  from  the  davits,  but  the  boats- 
wain said  that  the  cutter  was  already  full,  and  that 
even  one  man  might  be  enough  to  swamp  her.  I 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  99 

suppose  that  the  boatswain  must  have  acted 
according  to  his  light,  but  Jack  Baldwin,  who  sat 
looking  on  without  speaking,  should  have  seen 
that  the  man  was  taken  aboard. 

The  second  time  that  the  boat  was  pushed  away, 
its  head  came  around,  and  they  were  soon  pulling 
from  the  port  side  of  the  ship. 

When  those  aboard  of  the  Nancy  Hazlcwood  saw 
that  the  cutter  was  clear,  and  was  likely  to  get 
away,  they  cheered  and  waved  their  hands.  I  can 
hardly  bear  to  write  of  this,  even  now; — it  made 
Tom  Granger  cry  like  a  child. 

The  boatswain  sat  next  to  him  where  he  lay. 
He  chewed  hard  at  the  quid  of  tobacco  in  his 
mouth,  as,  lying  on  his  oars,  he  looked  back  at  the 
sinking  ship,  and  at  his  messmates  standing  on  her 
decks.  I  think,  from  what  some  of  the  sailors 
afterward  said,  that  they  would  have  been  willing 
to  put  back  to  the  ship,  and  have  taken  off  a  parcel 
more  of  the  crew,  but  nothing  of  the  kind  was 
done. 

So  every  one  lay  on  his  oars  and  looked  back; 
just  then  the  sun  shone  out,  pale  and  watery.  Tom 
could  see  the  vessel  very  easily  from  where  he  lay. 
The  fore-top  sail  was  still  standing,  and  also  half  of 
the  main-top  sail.  The  yards  on  the  mizzen  were 
swinging  about  with  the  braces  loose,  and  her 
bulwarks  were  as  sound  as  when  she  left  the  docks. 
Her  stern  was  low  in  the  water,  and  her  bow  was 
standing  so  high  that  her  red  copper  bottom  could 
be  plainly  seen. 


100  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

Soon  they  ran  down  into  the  trough  of  a  sea, 
and  the  Nancy  Hazlewood  was  hidden  from  sight ; 
when  they  came  up  again,  she  had  changed  her 
position.  They  could  not  see  the  after-part  of  the 
vessel,  though  it  might  have  been  hidden  by  a  sea, 
and  not  under  water.  By  the  pitch  of  her  masts 
the  ship  seemed  to  be  sitting  at  an  angle  of  about 
forty-five  degrees.  Just  then  another  sea  came, 
and  again  they  ran  down  in  the  trough  of  it; — 
when  they  came  up  the  Nancy  Hazlewood  was 
nowhere  to  be  seen. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

FOR  a  time  no  one  in  the  cutter  moved  or  said 
a  word.  I  remember  that  the  boatswain 
chewed  at  his  quid  of  tobacco  as  though  he  was 
starving ;  but  he  did  not  speak  a  word. 

It  was  Jack  Baldwin's  voice  that  broke  the 
silence. 

"  The  old  ship's  gone,  boys,"  roared  he.  "  We 
can't  do  her  any  good,  so  drop  her,  and  mind  what 
you're  about,  or  you'll  be  with  her  before  you  know 
it."  And  he  was  right,  for  the  cutter  was  heavily 
loaded,  there  being  nineteen  aboard  of  her — the 
right  number  of  her  crew  was  twelve. 

<D 

I  am  bound  to  say,  that  I  believe  if  any  one  of 
the  crew  of  the  Nancy  Hazlewood  had  been  seen 
clinging  to  the  loose  gear  that  was  floating  about 
the  place  where  the  ship  foundered  they  would 
have  been  taken  into  the  cutter ;  but  no  one  was 
seen,  nor  was  it  likely  that  a  man  could  keep  afloat 
for  any  length  of  time,  for  the  spray  was  flying. 

Such  was  the  loss  of  the  good  ship  Nancy  Hash- 
wood,  the  story  of  which  I  have  tried  to  tell  you 
just  as  it  happened,  adding  nothing  and  keeping 
nothing  back  that  might  give  you  a  clear  idea  of 


102  WJT-HIN  THE  CAPES. 

how  she  foundered  on  that  Thursday,  the  26th  of 
April,  1813. 

It  was  judged  that  she  went  down  in  latitude 
27°  North,  by  longitude  77°  West,  and  about  one 
hundred  or  one  hundred  and  ten  miles  north  of  the 
Little  Bahama  Banks. 

The  cutter  was  a  fine,  light  boat,  about  twenty- 
five  feet  in  length,  by  six  feet  in  breadth  at  the 
widest  part — a  small  craft  to  carry  nineteen  souls 
one  hundred  miles  through  a  stormy  sea. 

Ten  minutes  after  the  Nancy  Hazlewood  foun- 
dered the  crew  of  the  cutter  were  pulling  away  to 
the  southward.  After  a  little  while  Tom  looked 
up  and  saw  that  Jack  Baldwin  was  gazing  very 
earnestly  at  him. 

"Tom,"  said  he,  suddenly,  "if  I  loose  the  lash- 
ings on  your  arms  and  legs,  will  you  promise  to  be 
quiet,  and  do  your  fair  share  of  wrork?" 

Tom's  cheeks  were  still  wet,  and  he  was  shaken 
every  now  and  then  by  a  sob.  I  hope  that  you 
who  read  this  will  not  think  him  overly  womanish, 
but  will  give  a  thought  as  to  how  broken  he  was 
with  fatigue,  and  with  the  hardships  through  which 
he  had  passed.  I  can  say  that  none  of  the  crew  of 
the  cutter  seemed  to  think  lightly  of  him  on  ac- 
count of  it,  and  even  Jack  Baldwin's  voice  was  kind 
as  he  spoke. 

I  have  always  found  that  when  men  are  strongly 
moved  they  are  apt  to  be  very  unreasonable.  So  it 
was  with  Tom,  for  he  felt  very  bitterly  toward  Jack 
at  that  moment,  as  though  Jack  were  to  blame  for 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  103 

the  trouble  that  had  fallen  upon  them.  However, 
nothing  could  be  gained  by  staying  tied  as  he  was, 
so  he  presently  said: 

"  You  may  untie  me,  if  you  like.  The  Lord 
knows  that  I  don't  care  much  for  my  life  just  now, 
but  there's  no  use  letting  all  these  poor  fellows 
drown  like  the  rest." 

"  Is  that  all  the  thanks  I  get  for  saving  your 
life?"  said  Jack  Baldwin.  "Never  mind;  you'll 
give  me  more  thanks  when  your  feet  are  safe  on 
dry  land.  Untie  him,  bo'sen,  for  he'll  have  to  take 
his  hand  at  the  oars,  along  with  the  rest." 

The  first  thing  that  was  done  was  to  divide  the 
boat's  crew  into  parties,  each  of  which  were  to  row 
by  spells.  Two  of  the  men  not  rowing  were  to 
keep  a  lookout  ahead,  in  case  any  vessel  might 
heave  in  sight.  The  rest  were  to  bail  out  the  boat, 
for  it  was  needful  to  keep  bailing  nearly  all  the 
time.  In  most  cases  it  might  have  been  safer  to 
have  tried  to  ride  out  the  storm,  and  to  have  run 
the  chance  of  being  picked  up  by  some  passing 
vessel ;  but  there  were  certain  things  to  be  con- 
sidered in  the  case  of  those  in  the  cutter.  Their 
provisions  and  water  were  none  too  plenty,  and 
there  was  little  chance  of  being  picked  up,  as  so 
few  vessels  were  sailing  in  those  waters,  excepting 
in  fleets  and  under  convoy. 

A  landsman  would  have  been  puzzled  to  know 
how  a  boat  as  small  as  the  cutter  could  ever  hope 
to  live  in  a  sea  such  as  that  was.  It  was,  indeed, 
no  small  matter  to  run  her  safely,  and  Jack,  who 


104  WITH  IN  THE  CAPES. 

was  at  the  tiller,  had  to  keep  his  weather  eye  lifting, 
I  can  tell  you. 

One  of  the  crew  kept  a  constant  lookout  over 
the  stern,  to  see  when  a  wave  with  a  crest  was 
coming,  and  to  warn  the  man  at  the  tiller  of  it,  for 
these  were  the  seas  that  brought  danger  with  them. 
At  one  time  all  hands  would  back  water,  so  as  to 
let  such  a  one  break  in  front  of  them.  At  another 
time  they  would  pull  all,  so  as  to  get  out  of  the 
way  until  the  force  of  the  broken  sea  was  spent. 
Sometimes  one  of  these  following  seas  would  fling 
the  cutter  high  aloft  on  its  crest,  carrying  it  along 
like  an  eggshell  for  a  little  distance,  and  giving 
them  a  dash  as  it  went  by  that  would  set  them  all 
bailing  for  dear  life. 

Of  course,  it  was  needful  to  let  each  sea  meet 
them  fairly  astern,  for  if  the  boat  should  broach  too, 
she  would  be  swamped  or  capsized  as  quick  as 
a  wink.  As  soon  as  one  sea  would  pass  them 
another  would  come.  Perhaps  it  would  be  a  cross 
sea,  which,  of  course,  was  the  kind  that  they 
dreaded  the  most  of  all.  Sometimes  the  helm  of 
the  cutter  could  not  bring  her  around  quickly 
enough,  or,  maybe,  just  then  her  rudder  would  be 
clear  of  the  water.  Then  Jack  Baldwin  would  sing 
out  in  his  mighty  voice  : 

"  Give  way  starboard  !  Back  port ! "  or  "  Give 
way  port !  back  starboard  ! " 

The  next  moment,  perhaps,  another  green  sea 
would  be  seen  rushing  at  them,  and  Jack  would 
shout : 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  10$ 

"  Give  way  together ! " 

Then  there  would  be  a  thunder  and  a  roar 
behind  them,  and  the  seething  of  white  foam  would 
hiss  alongside  of  the  gunwale,  and  as  it  rolled  past 
Jack's  voice  would  ring  out : 

"Back,  back  all!" 

There  were  times  when  all  four  of  these  orders 
would  be  given  inside  the  space  of  a  minute. 
This  is  what  they  went  through  for  nearly  two 
days,  so  it  may  perhaps  give  you  a  notion  of  what 
they  had  to  do  to  keep,  the  boat  alive  for  that  time, 
and  what  a  sea  it  was  to  keep  her  alive  in. 

They  had  in  the  way  of  provisions  about  seventy- 
five  pounds  of  hard-tack  and  two  small  breakers  of 
water.  They  presently  found  that  the  water  in  one 
of  the  breakers  was  mixed  with  salt,  so  they  heaved 
it  overboard  at  once  to  make  more  room,  as  they 
were  very  much  crowded. 

So  the  afternoon  wore  along,  and  at  last  evening 
began  to  settle  down  over  them. 

Any  one  but  a  seaman  might  have  wondered 
how  the  boat  was  to  be  kept  afloat  at  night,  when 
it  was  only  by  such  unending  care  that  she  was 
kept  alive  in  the  daytime.  But  as  darkness  settled 
the  crest  of  each  wave  glimmered  with  a  pale  phos- 
phorescence that  not  only  showed  its  position,  but 
the  course  in  which  it  was  traveling.  Nevertheless, 
it  was  an  awful  night,  one  of  the  most  awful  that 
Tom  Granger  has  ever  passed  through.  Above  the 
ceaseless  din  and  thunder  of  the  roaring  water  Jack 
Baldwin's  voice  could  be  heard  singing  out  his 


106  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

orders  to  the  oarsmen,  and  now  and  then  to  the 
others : 

"  Bale  her  out  smartly,  lads !  Keep  her  dry ! 
Who's  bailing  there  ?  Lively  now !  " 

Tom  had  turned  to,  and  was  bailing  a  great  part 
of  the  time.  He  had  been  pulling  an  oar  in  the 
afternoon,  for  every  one  had  to  take  his  turn;  and 
so,  what  with  weariness  and  cold  and  want  of 
sleep,  he  was  nearly  done  up.  He  managed  to  joke 
and  laugh  with  the  men,  as  though  all  that  they 
were  passing  through  was  nothing  to  speak  of;  but 
for  all  that  he  would  find  himself  half  asleep  at 
times,  though  he  was  still  dipping  out  the  water. 
When  in  this  state  he  always  had  one  thing  before 
his  eyeballs ;  it  was  a  ship,  her  stern  under  water 
and  her  bows  standing  so  high  that  she  showed 
her  copper  bottom.  Her  maintop-gallant-mast  was 
gone,  and  her  fore-sail  was  shaking  in  the  wind-~ 
it  was  the  Nancy  Hazlewood  as  he  had  last  seen 
her. 

It  was  the  same  all  that  night;  whenever  he 
would  shut  his  eyes,  even  if  it  were  only  for  a 
moment,  he  would  see  that  sinking  ship  and  the 
troubled  waters  around  her. 

About  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  Jack  gave  up 
the  tiller  to  Tom  Granger.  Tom  felt  very  sorry  for 
him,  for  he  seemed  harassed  and  worn.  He  him- 
self was  pretty  well  tired  out,  as  I  have  said,  for  he 
had  only  had  about  two  hours  sleep  for  over  three 
days.  Nevertheless,  he  took  the  tiller,  for  Jack 
seemed  more  done  up  than  he.  Tom  held  the 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  1 07 

tiller  for  the  rest  of  that  day,  and  for  most  of  the 
next  night. 

Early  in  the  day  it  was  found  that  the  water  had 
given  out,  so  they  heaved  that  breaker  overboard 
also.  There  was  a  great  mistake  somewhere  in  the 
matter  of  this  water.  Either  the  allowance  for 
each  man  was  wrong,  or  there  was  not  as  much  in 
the  breaker  as  had  been  supposed.  They  had 
counted  on  its  lasting  eighteen  hours  longer  than  it 
did,  and  the  lack  of  it  proved  to  be  one  of  the 
greatest  causes  of  their  suffering. 

The  next  morning  the  sun  shone  out,  though 
the  weather  was  squally,  and  the  sea  as  heavy  as 
ever.  By  that  time  they  were  suffering  more  from 
thirst  than  from  anything  else.  Tom  pitied  the 
poor  men  from  the  bottom  of  his  heart.  The 
boatswain,  who  sat  nearest  him,  kept  clearing  his 
throat,  as  though  he  could  get  rid  of  the  dryness 
and  the  pain  in  that  way. 

As  the  sharpness  of  their  thirst  increased,  the 
men  showed  that  there  was  not  the  friendly  feeling 
between  them  that  there  had  been  at  first.  They 
were  surly,  would  speak  sharply  to  one  another, 
and  were  sullen  when  spoken  to  by  Jack  or  Tom. 
About  nine  o'clock  one  of  the  men  on  the  lookout 
sang  out  all  of  a  sudden : 

"  Land  over  the  port  bow  !" 

Jack  had  the  tiller  again  at  this  time,  and  it  was 
all  that  Tom  could  do  to  keep  the  men  from  stand- 
ing up  in  the  boat.  If  they  had  done  so,  they 
would  have  capsized  her,  in  all  likelihood.  About 


108  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

a  quarter  of  an  hour  afterward  they  were  near 
enough  to  hear  the  surf  thundering  on  the  beach. 
Some  of  the  men  were  for  landing  off-hand,  and 
both  Jack  and  Tom  found  it  hard  work  to  keep 
these  fellows  in  order. 

Tom  thought  that  the  land  in  front  of  them  was 
most  likely  one  of  the  smaller  islands  at  the  north- 
ern part  of  the  Bahama  group.  A  line  of  white 
sand-hills,  topped  by  a  growth  of  coarse  grass  and 
low  scrub  bushes,  could  be  seen  a  little  distance 
inland.  The  shore  stretched  northerly  and  south- 
erly, and  looking  from  the  seaward,  they  could  see 
no  break  in  it. 

Jack  put  the  boat's  head  to  the  southward,  so  as 
to  keep  the  seas  pretty  well  to  the  stern,  his  idea 
being  to  run  along  the  coast  line  until  he  could 
either  turn  the  end  of  the  island,  or  find  some  creek 
or  inlet  where  there  would  be  a  fit  place  to  beach 
the  cutter. 

There  was  a  current  setting  up  the  beach,  and  it 
was  very  laborious  work  pulling  against  it,  so,  as 
time  went  on,  the  men  grumbled  louder  and  louder, 
saying  that  they  might  just  as  well  land  where  they 
were,  and  that  there  was  no  use  breaking  their 
hearts  with  rowing,  while  they  might  beach  the 
boat,  with  only  a  ducking  at  the  worst. 

Tom  was  more  sorry  for  the  men,  than  angry  at 
them,  for  any  one  could  see  how  parched  they  were 
with  thirst,  and  how  nearly  worn  out. 

At  last  a  sailor  named  Hitch  flung  down  his  oar, 
and  swore  that  he  would  row  no  more,  without  it 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  109 

was  to  row  to  the  shore.  An  approving  growl 
went  up  amongst  the  men,  and  things  began  to 
take  a  very  ugly  look.  Jack  was  in  a  towering 
rage;  he  swore  at  the  men,  as  only  he  could  swear; 
but  every  moment  showed  that  they  could  not  be 
kept  at  their  oars  a  great  while  longer. 

Meantime  the  man  Hitch  sat  sullenly,  answering 
Jack's  words  with  others  not  a  bit  better. 

"Tom,"  roared  Jack,  all  of  a  sudden;  "Tom, 
come  here  and  take  this  tiller,  while  I  settle  that 
mutinous  son  of  a  sea  cook." 

He  made  a  step  forward  as  he  spoke,  but  in  a 
moment  the  man's  fingers  were  around  the  boat's 
plug. 

''You'll  settle  me,  will  you?"  cried  he.  " 

your  eyes  !  Come  a  step  furder,  and  I'll  out  with 
this  plug,  and  send  us  all  to  the  bottom,  with  the 
boat  under  us!" 

Jack  stopped  where  he  was,  for  he  saw  that  the 
fellow  would  do  as  he  said ;  had  he  done  so,  the 
boat  would  have  filled  and  gone  down  in  a  minute. 

When  Jack  stopped,  a  laugh  went  up  from  all 
around,  for  it  was  plain  to  see  that  the  men  were  in 
sympathy  with  Hitch.  This  made  the  fellow  feel 
inclined  to  go  a  step  further,  for  he  felt  bold  when 
he  saw  Jack  pause." 

"  If  you  don't  put  the  boat's  head  to  the  shore," 
said  he,  "  111  pull  out  the  plug,  anyhow ! " 

"Tom,"  cried  Jack,  passionately,  "give  me  the 
tiller;  if  they  will  drown  for  a  pack  of  lubberly 
fools,  let  them  drown  and  be 


1 10  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

" For  heaven's  sake,  Jack!"  cried  Tom;  "think 
what  you're  about .  You'll  drown  us  all.  Let  me 
hold  the  tiller  ! " 

But  Jack  was  blind  and  deaf  with  his  passion, 
and  would  listen  to  nothing.  Tom  struggled  with 
him  as  long  as  he  was  able;  holding  on  to  the 
tiller  with  might  and  main,  fighting  him  off,  and 
pleading  with  him  all  the  while. 

I  suppose  that  they  must  have  fought  for  two  or 
three  minutes,  and  the  boat  was  nearly  swamped 
more  than  once  with  their  struggles.  At  last  Jack 
wrenched  Tom's  hands  away  and  seized  hold  of  the 
tiller,  for  a  great  part  of  Tom's  strength  had  gone 
from  him,  because  of  long  and  hard  exposure, 
which  seemed  to  have  told  more  upon  him  than  on 
Jack. 

The  men  appeared  to  be  pretty  well  frightened 
by  this  time,  and  Hitch  had  taken  his  oar  again. 
In  a  moment  Jack  had  put  the  boat's  head  toward 
the  shore. 

"  Pull  lively  now,  my  hearties,"  said  he,  grimly, 
"  for  you'll  have  a  tough  pull  of  it  before  you  get 
to  that  beach  over  yonder." 

Just  before  they  came  to  the  outer  line  of 
breakers,  Jack  put  the  cutter's  head  about  so  as  to 
let  her  beach  stern  foremost. 

Tom  knew  that  the  cutter  would  never  get  through 
the  breakers.  There  was  not  the  tenth  part  of  the 
tenth  part  of  a  chance  of  it ;  therefore  he  flung  off 
his  coat  and  kicked  off  his  shoes,  so  as  to  be  in 
readiness  when  the  time  should  come.  There  was 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  Ill 

not  much  of  the  raging  and  the  lashing  of  the  surf 
to  be  seen  from  the  sea.  Now  and  then  a  spit  of 
foamy  water  would  shoot  high  up  into  the  air  from 
the  recoil  of  the  waters  on  the  hard  sand,  but  they 
could  not  tell  what  the  full  wrath  and  roaring  of 
the  great  breakers  were  until  they  had  gotten  fairly 
in  amongst  them. 

Jack  did  all  that  a  man  could  do  to  get  that  boat 
to  the  beach.  He  tried  rather  to  keep  it  off  than  to 
urge  it  too  rapidly  toward  the  shore.  He  did  his 
work  well,  for  he  had  brought  the  cutter  through 
the  first  line  of  breakers,  and  into  the  second — but 
he  got  her  no  further. 

A  monstrous  wave,  fully  twelve  feet  high,  a  solid 
mountain  of  green  water,  came  rushing  toward 
them,  its  crest  growing  sharper  and  sharper,  and 
seeming  to  mount  higher  and  higher  as  it  swept 
toward  the  shore. 

"  Pull  for  your  lives  !  "  roared  Jack,  in  a  voice  of 
thunder.  But  it  was  no  use,  for  the  next  instant 
the  breaker  was  on  them.  For  a  moment  Tom 
had  a  feeling  of  spinning  toward  the  shore,  with 
the  green  water  towering  ten  feet  above  him ;  then  it 
arched  slowly  over,  there  was  a  crash  and  a  roar,  and 
he  was  struggling  in  a  whirling,  watery  blindness. 

Over  and  over  he  rolled,  grasping  at  the  sand 
every  now  and  then,  but  all  the  time  feeling  himself 
as  helpless  as  a  rat  in  the  tumultuous  swirling  of 
the  water.  Presently  he  felt  himself  being  sucked 
out  again,  Faster  and  faster  he  went,  as  the  under- 
|QW  gathered  fprce  in  its  rush.  For  a  moment  hf 


112  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

gained  his  feet,  and  bore  with  all  his  strength 
against  the  outgoing  water.  The  sand  slid  from 
beneath  his  heels,  till  he  must  have  sunk  three 
inches  into  it.  For  an  instant  he  had  a  half-blinded 
vision  of  Jack  Baldwin,  fifteen  or  twenty  feet  nearer 
to  the  shore  than  himself.  Then  came  another 
crashing  roar,  and  he  was  whirled  over  and  over 
and  round  and  round,  like  a  feather  in  the  water. 
A  great  feeling  of  utter  helplessness  came  over 
him ;  for  a  moment  his  lips  came  to  the  surface 
and  he  gave  a  gurgling  cry. 

Out  went  the  undertow  again,  and  out  went  Tom 
with  it,  only  to  meet  another  breaker  and  to  be 
again  whirled  by  it  toward  the  beach.  By  this 
time  he  had  given  up  struggling,  and  everything 
was  sliding  away  from  him. 

All  of  a  sudden  he  felt  himself  clutched  by  the 
shirt.  Once  more  came  the  horrible  dragging  of 
the  undertow,  but  this  time  some  one  was  holding 
him  against  it.  Everything  was  glimmering  to  his 
sight,  but  he  felt  that  he  was  being  dragged  up  on 
the  beach,  and  at  last  that  he  was  lying  on  the  dry 
sand,  face  up,  and  Jack  Baldwin  panting  alongside 
of  him. 


PART  II 


113 


CHAPTER  X. 

IN  this  story  of  Tom  Granger  I  have  undertaken 
to  divide  that  which  I  am  writing  into  chapters 
and  parts,  in  the  same  manner  that  novel  writers 
sometimes  divide  their  novels  and  tales.  I  find 
that  it  keeps  me  more  steadily  to  my  course,  so 
that,  though  I  wander  now  and  then  from  the 
matter  in  hand,  I  always  get  safely  back  to  my 
bearings  again.  If  you  will  go  with  me  to  the  end, 
you  will  find  that  I  have  spun  my  yarn  to  the  last 
word,  though  it  may  be  in  my  own  fashion. 

Every  one  has  read  tales  of  shipwreck  and  of 
lonely  islands,  and  there  is  generally  something 
romantic  and  even  pleasant  in  them ;  but  in  real 
shipwreck  there  is  nothing  either  romantic  or 
pleasant ;  neither  is  a  desert  island  a  cheerful  place 
to  dwell  upon.  I  say  this  because  I  wish  you  to 
understand  why  if  is  that  I  do  not  intend  to  give 
you  a  long  account  of  the  life  that  they  led  at  this 
place. 

Nevertheless,  I  would  not  have  you  think  from 
that  which  I  have  just  written  that  Tom  and  Jack 
were  altogether  miserable  during  the  year  and  a  half 
that  they  lived  there.  Many  times  they  were  sick 

"5 


Il6  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

at  heart  looking  for  the  aid  that  was  so  long  in 
coming;  but  there  were  other  times  when  they 
were  full  of  hopes,  and  times  when  they  were  even 
happy.  Neither  was  the  place  a  barren,  desolate, 
dreary  sand  waste,  such  as  are  many  of  the  Bahama 
Islands.  They  saw  many  curious  and  beautiful 
things  during  the  time  of  their  living  there.  As 
an  instance  I  may  say  that  when  Tom  came  away 
he  brought  with  him  a  parcel  of  as  handsome  shells 
as  ever  I  saw  in  all  my  life.  They  are  now  piled 
upon  the  mantle-shelf  in  my  parlor.  I  have  them 
before  my  eyes  as  I  write  these  words.  There  is 
a  large  one  upon  the  centre -table  that  has  a  full- 
rigged  ship  wrought  upon  it.  It  was  carved  with  a 
jack-knife,  and  it  shows  the  work  of  many  idle 
moments,  when  Tom  sat  beside  the  fire  in  front  of 
their  hut  at  night,  with  Jack  Baldwin  for  company. 
Oftentimes  a  great  longing  has  come  upon  Tom 
to  visit  the  old  place  once  more,  and  to  see  those 
things  again  which  he  learned  to  know  so  well.  As 
I  sit  here  now,  and  close  my  eyes,  I  can  see  many 
of  them  with  my  inward  sight.  I  can  even  see  them 
more  clearly  than  when  the  memory  of  them  was 
fresh  and  green,  for,  as  the  eyes  of  one's  body 
become  dim  and  blurred,  the  eyes  of  memory 
become  ever  sharper  and  keener,  so  that  not  even 
the  smallest  thing  escapes  their  sight.  So  now  I 
can  see  the  place  that  was  Tom's  home  for  sixteen 
months  so  long  ago,  as  plainly  as  though  I  had  left 
it  only  yesterday.  I  can  see  the  cave  in  the  side  of 
the  sand-hill,  the  cutter  turned  bottom  up  for 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  1 1/ 

roof,  and  the  screen  of  woven  grass  that  hung  in 
front  to  keep  the  rain  from  beating  in.  I  can  even 
see  the  tame  sea-gull  sitting  on  the  keel  of  the 
upturned  boat. 

Oftentimes,  as  I  sit  smoking  my  pipe  after  my 
dinner,  I  slide  off  into  a  doze,  and  sometimes  I 
dream  of  all  these  places — of  the  sand-spit  where 
they  found  the  half-buried  wreck  that  brought  them 
so  strange  a  fortune ;  of  the  long,  narrow  tongue  of 
sand  beyond,  where,  at  low  tide,  the  flamingoes 
always  stood  in  a  line,  like  so  many  red-coated 
British  soldiers ;  of  the  coral  reef  where  they 
fished ;  of  the  beach  where  the  turtles  came  to  drop 
their  eggs,  and  of  other  things,  all  of  them  seeming 
pleasant  as  I  look  at  them  down  through  the 
distance  of  the  past.  So  I  should  like  to  see  the 
old  place  once  more  with  my  mortal  eyes,  though  I 
may  never  hope  to  do  so  now,  for  my  sands  are 
nearly  run. 

But,  though  the  place  may  seem  pleasant  to  me 
after  all  these  years,  it  was  not  an  island  such  as 
one  reads  of  in  novels  and  stories ;  it  was  not  a 
place  upon  which  one  would  choose  to  live  all 
one's  years,  and  Tom  Granger  was  tired  enough  of 
it  before  he  got  through  with  it,  I  can  tell  you. 

My  neighbors  profess  to  be  very  fond  of  listening 
to  me  when  I  get  started  in  upon  spinning  yarns 
about  Tom  Granger's  life  on  the  island,  and  I  think 
that  not  only  do  they  profess  to  be  fond  of  it,  but 
that  they  really  are  so. 

My  dear  old  friend,  the  late  Doctor  White,  used 


Il8  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

to  come  regularly  every  Saturday  night,  winter  or 
summer,  clear  or  foul,  and  the  first  thing  that  he 
would  say  was : 

"  Come,  Tom,  spin  us  a  yarn ;  "  or,  "  Let  us  hear 
one  of  your  traveler's  lies,  Tom."  (This,  you 
understand,  was  merely  a  piece  of  pleasantry  upon 
his  part.)  Then  straightway  I  would  begin  upon 
some  yarn,  while  he  would  sit  opposite  to  me 
across  the  fire,  listening  to  me  and  smoking  his 
pipe  the  while.  I  must  say,  though,  that  he  had  a 
nasty  habit  of  interrupting  me  with  experiences  of 
his  own,  for  he  had  been  assistant  surgeon  aboard 
the  Pimlico,  in  the  South  Atlantic,  from  1836  to 
1838,  and  he  had  seen  a  few  little  trivial  things 
which  he  would  tell  me,  though  I  had  heard  them 
a  score  of  times  before,  and  though  they  were  not 
nearly  as  interesting  as  those  things  which  I  would 
be  telling  him. 

However,  that  is  neither  here  nor  there,  and  I 
find  that  I  am  again  wandering  from  the  point  in 
hand.  What  I  began  to  say  was,  that,  though  my 
neighbors  are  always  glad  to  listen  to  my  yarns, 
and  though  they  tell  me  that  they  are  both  inter- 
esting and  instructive,  I  will  not  give  a  long  and 
full  account  of  Tom's  and  Jack's  daily  life  upon  the 
island  on  which  they  were  cast,  for  this  narrative 
concerns  other  matters  of  more  import,  and  I  thank 
my  stars  that  I  am  able  to  bridle  my  tongue,  being, 
as  I  said  before,  no  great  talker. 

Tom  and  Jack  were  the  only  ones  of  all  the 
crew  of  the  cutter  that  were  cast  alive  on  the  island. 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  II 9 

The  first  day  or  two  of  their  life  thereon  was  as 
bitter  and  miserable  as  could  be.  All  this  would 
be  both  painful  and  unpleasant  to  tell,  as  well  as 
needless,  and,  therefore,  I  will  pass  it  by.  By  the 
time  that  a  month  had  gone,  they  were  settled  as 
comfortably  as  could  be,  considering  what  they  had 
at  hand  to  make  themselves  comfortable. 

The  body  of  the  island  was  about  five  miles  in 
length,  and  about  two  miles  or  two  miles  and  a  half 
in  breadth  at  the  widest  part.  From  the  lower  and 
easterly  end  a  long,  sandy  hook  ran  out  into  the 
ocean.  It  was  the  continuation  of  the  eastern 
beach,  and,  with  the  south  shore  of  the  island,  it 
enclosed  a  smooth,  deep  bay  or  harbor,  in  which 
even  the  largest  ships  could  have  ridden  at  anchor 
easily  and  comfortably. 

On  the  Atlantic  side  of  this  sand-spit,  and  close 
to  where  it  joined  the  body  of  the  island,  was  the 
sunken  wreck  that  afterward  had  so  much  to  do 
with  Tom's  fortunes,  and  of  which  I  shall  soon 
have  more  to  tell  you.  The  eastern  side  of  this 
hook  or  beach  was  of  sloping  sand,  washed  up  by 
the  continual  beating  of  the  surf.  The  western,  or 
bay  side,  was  an  abrupt  coral  reef.  This  coral  reef 
was  covered  with  barnacles,  so  that  there  were 
always  plenty  of  fish  to  be  caught  along  that  shore 
during  the  slack  water  or  the  young  flood. 

Up  and  down  the  length  of  the  eastern  shore, 
and  following  in  a  line  with  the  beach,  was  a  ridge 
of  white  sand  hills.  A  number  of  scrub  trees  grew 
along  the  crest  of  this  ridge,  and  it  was  these  trees 


120  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

or  bushes  that  the  lookout  in  the  cutter  had  first 
sighted.      In  the  south-western  end  of  these  sand 

o 

hills  Jack  and  Tom  built  their  hut. 

The  lower  end  of  the  chain  of  white  hills  made  a 
sudden  turn  to  the  westward,  and  not  far  from 
where  they  fell  away  to  the  level  of  the  beach  was 
a  thicket  of  underbrush,  with  half  a  dozen  palmetto 
trees  growing  in  the  midst  of  it.  Near  to  the  edge 
of  this  thicket  a  spring  of  clear,  cool  water  bubbled 
up  out  of  the  white  sand,  and  slid  away  through 
thick  grasses  and  sedge  until  it  found  its  way 
through  a  marshy  little  flat  into  the  bay. 

It  was  close  to  this  spot  that  they  chose  to  live, 
and  thither  they  dragged  the  cutter  from  the  place 
where  she  had  been  flung  on  the  sand,  two  or  three 
miles  further  up  the  beach.  The  boat  had  been 
stove  in  beyond  all  hopes  of  repairing,  especially  as 
they  had  no  tools  to  mend  it  with,  excepting  their 
jack-knives  and  two  rude  chisels  that  Tom  after- 
ward made  from  rusty  bolts  which  they  picked  out 
of  the  ribs  of  the  wreck  on  the  sand-spit  But,  even 
if  they  had  had  a  whole  boat-builder's  outfit,  and 
planks  to  spare,  I  doubt  if  the  cutter  could  have  been 
mended,  for  not  only  had  the  bottom  been  stove 
in,  but  the  bow  had  been  smashed  into  splinters. 

The  loss  of  the  cutter  was  one  of  their  bitterest 
sources  of  regret  during  their  life  on  this  place, 
for  now  and  then  they  could  see  the  looming  of 
land  not  more  than  twenty  miles  away  toward  the 
southward.  They  could  easily  have  reached  it 
in  a  day's  time,  if  the  boat  had  been  sound  and 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  121 

whole.  As  it  was,  she  would  never  float  again, 
so  they  dragged  her  down  the  beach  and  patched 
her  with  grass  and  mud,  and  used  her  for  a  roof  to 
cover  them  at  night,  for  they  found  that  the  dews 
were  heavy  at  some  seasons  of  the  year.  It  took 
them  over  a  fortnight  to  move  the  boat  from  where 
she  had  been  thrown  to  the  place  where  they  built 
their  home,  three  miles  away.  It  was  heavy  work 
hauling  it  across  the  sand,  but,  as  I  said,  by  the 
time  that  a  month  had  gone,  they  were  pretty 
comfortably  settled,  and  were  feeling  quite  at  home 
in  their  quarters. 

In  front  of  them  was  the  long,  narrow  hook  of 
white  sand,  over  which  the  air  danced  and  quivered 
when  the  hot  sun  beat  down  upon  it.  It  curved 
out  into  the  dark  water  for  a  mile,  like  a  long, 
slender  hook,  cutting  off  the  bay  from  the  open 
water  beyond.  To  the  right  of  them  was  the  bay 
shore  of  the  island,  the  silvery  sand  strewn  thickly 
with  many-colored  shells  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach.  About  three  hundred  yards  away  was  the 
buried  wreck.  At  that  time  nothing  was  to  be 
seen  of  it  but  the  ribs,  that  just  showed  above  the 
sand  like  a  row  of  dead,  blackened  stumps.  From 
this  wreck  they  obtained  iron  spikes,  which  Tom 
fashioned  into  rude  tools  and  ruder  fish-hooks. 

Such  was  the  scene  that  they  had  before  their 
eyes  for  all  those  sixteen  months,  unchanged,  ex- 
cepting as  storm  or  calm  would  change  the  face  of 
things ;  and  the  same  monotonous  sound  was  always 
in  their  ears^~the  eternal  "  swash !  swash ! "  of  thi 


122  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

ground  swell  on  the  shell-strewn  beach  below  the 
hut,  sounding  unceasingly  through  the  deep,  heavy 
thundering  of  the  Atlantic  breakers  to  the  eastward. 

Day  followed  day  in  an  unchanging  round — now 
fishing  and  now  hunting  gull's  eggs.  The  fishing 
was  done  in  the  morning,  when  the  tide  was  good. 
During  the  hot  afternoons  they  would  lie  on  the 
sand,  in  the  shade  of  the  cutter,  looking  out  to  sea, 
talking  lazily,  and  now  and  then  dozing.  It  was  a 
helpless,  listless  life,  and  as  time  wore  along,  I 
doubt  if  they  would  have  known  what  day  or 
month  or  even  what  year  it  was,  if  Tom  had  not 
kept  a  score  of  the  days  as  they  passed,  by  marking 
them  on  the  side  of  the  cutter  with  his  jack-knife — 
a  short  mark  for  week  days  and  a  long  mark  with  a 
cross  for  Sundays.  By  this  means  they  contrived 
to  know  how  time  was  going  with  them. 

This  enforced  inaction  was  one  of  the  bitterest 
trials  to  them.  I  have  known  times  when,  while 
they  were  sitting  still,  Jack  would  burst  out  into  a 
sudden  volley  of  imprecations.  Tom  would  never 
give  way  in  this  manner ;  — perhaps  it  would  have 
been  a  relief  to  him  if  he  had.  When  the  darkness 
of  despair  would  settle  over  him,  he  would  leave 
Jack,  and  walk  up  and  down  the  beach  by  himself; 
perhaps  for  hours  at  a  time.  During  all  the  time 
that  the  Nancy  Hazlewood  was  sinking  under  him, 
Tom  had  thought  little  of  Patty,  and  had  wondered 
at  himself  in  a  dull  sort  of  a  way;  perhaps  it  was 
the  press  of  work  that  was  then  upon  him,  that 
her  Qwt  pf  to  min4,  or  rather  Wwnte4  the 


WITHIN  THE   CAPES.  123 

keenness  of  the  thought  of  her.  But  now,  in  the 
listless  idleness  of  his  life,  he  thought  of  her,  and 
thought  of  her  continually.  Her  presence  was 
always  with  him,  and  at  times  his  longing  for  her 
was  so  deep  and  keen,  that  his  heart  ached  with  it. 
Often  in  the  night  time  he  would  lie  on  the  dark, 
lonely  sand,  looking  up  at  the  stars,  saying  nothing, 
but  thinking  of  Patty  and  of  his  home,  with  a  longing 
so  strong,  that  sometimes  he  was  nearly  crazy  with 
the  yearning  of  his  home-sickness.  At  other  times 
the  gloominess  of  a  deep  despair  would  settle  over 
him  in  a  dark  cloud;  then,  perhaps,  he  would  say 
to  himself,  "Supposing  that  I  do  get  back  to  my 
home  again,  what  good  will  it  do  me?  I  have 
been  given  a  year  in  which  to  earn  seven  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars;  it  may  be  two  years  before  I  am 
taken  off  of  this  sand  spit, — what  chance  is  there  of 
my  earning  that  much  here?"  Then,  maybe  he 
would  get  up  and  walk  away,  pacing  up  and  down 
the  beach  by  himself,  cursing  the  fortune  that  had 
thrown  him  on  this  land,  and  sometimes  even 
selfishly  wishing  that  he  could  die,  and  be  rid  of  all 
the  troubles  that  beset  him.  During  such  moods 
Jack  would  leave  him  alone,  for  he  saw  that  Tom 
was  thinking  of  things,  and  was  not  to  be  talked  to 
or  interfered  with ;  — he  had  grown  to  have  a 
strangely  high  regard  and  respect  for  him ;  very 
different  from  the  way  in  which  he  used  to  look 
upon  him.  He  seemed  to  have  a  dim  idea  that 
Tom's  troubles  were  deeper  than  his  own,  but  why 
they  were  greater,  he  did  not  know,  for  Tom  never 


124  WITHIN  THE   CAPES. 

talked  of  Patty  to  him.  So  Jack  always  let  him 
alone,  and,  though  he  would  follow  him  with  his 
eyes,  he  never  ventured  a  word  at  such  times. 

I  would  not  have  you  think  that  Tom  was 
twiddling  his  thumbs  all  this  time,  and  idly  wishing 
that  he  could  get  away  without  doing  anything 
further  than  to  wish. 

During  the  fall  they  built  a  raft;  it  took  them 
nearly  a  month  and  a  half  to  make  it,  for  they  had 
no  tools  to  work  with,  but  two  rude  chisels  and  two 
jack-knives,  one  of  which  (Jack's)  had  the  point 
broken  off  of  it.  But  after  they  had  spent  all  the 
time  in  the  making  of  the  raft,  it  turned  out  to  be 
of  no  use,  excepting  to  fish  off  of  in  the  bay  during 
fair  weather,  so  all  their  labor  was  for  nothing. 

They  had  great  ideas  of  it  at  first,  and  one  day 
when  the  wind  was  fair,  and  the  day  clear  and 
bright,  they  undertook  to  sail  away  upon  it  to  the 
island  to  the  southward.  Tom  had  fashioned  a 
pair  of  oars  out  of  a  palmetto  tree,  and  he  and 
Jack  had  made  a  sail  out  of  the  coarse  sea-grass 
that  covered  the  island;  these  had  cost  them  vast 
labor,  but  they  found  that  with  oars  and  sail 
together,  they  did  not  get  their  clumsy  craft  along 
at  the  rate  of  a  mile  an  hour.  I  doubt  if  they  ever 
could  have  reached  the  island  under  the  best  of 
circumstances ;  as  it  was,  they  met  a  current  a 
couple  of  miles  to  the  southward,  that  swept  them 
gut  to  sea.  They  were  fully  six  hours  in  getting 
back  to  land ;  even  then  it  was  a  chance  that  they  got 
back  at  all,  nor  would  they  have  done  so  if  a  wind 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 


125 


had  not  luckily  sprung  up  from  the  south.     After 
that  they  were  content  to  remain  where  they  were. 

They  also  set  up  a  signal :  it  was  a  palmetto  tree 
with  a  bush  lashed  to  the  top  of  it;  beside  this  they 
built  a  pile  of  brush  to  fire  at  night,  in  case  any 
vessel  should  appear  in  the  offing  at  evening  time. 
They  added  to  this  brush  heap,  from  day  to  day, 
until  it  was  as  high  as  a  hay  stack. 

Once,  during  the  latter  part  of  that  autumn,  a  dead 
porpoise  was  washed  up  on  the  beach  toward  the 
lower  part  of  the  sandy  hook.  This  was  a  God- 
send to  them  as  a  means  to  let  their  condition  be 
known  to  the  outside  world,  for  of  the  skin  of  this 
porpoise  they  made  a  number  of  bags  or  bladders, 
which  they  set  adrift  at  different  times,  when  the 
wind  was  fair  for  carrying  them  away.  In  these 
air  bladders  Tom  put  a  map  of  the  island,  its 
bearings  (as  nearly  as  he  could  judge),  and  word  of 
their  condition.  All  this  was  drawn  and  written 
on  two  strips  of  bark,  and  was  done  with  the  point 
of  a  red  hot  piece  of  iron.  This  was  the  wording 
kof  the  written  part : 


The  ship  Nancy  Hazlewood 
of  Philadelphia  was  lost 
at  sea  on  the  26  of  Apl. 
fSij.     The  ist  &  2d  mates 
by  name  yohn  Kent  Baldwin 
and  Thomas  Granger  were 
wrecked  on  ths.  Islnd.     If 
you  are  a  Christn.  come  to 
thr.  aid. 


126  WITHIN  THE   CAPES. 

This  I  have  copied  from  a  slip  of  bark  that 
Captain  Williamson  afterward  gave  me. 

Thus  they  settled  and  lived  on  the  island  with 
little  of  interest  happening  in  their  lives,  until  the 
great  hurricane  of  1814  came  upon  them.  This 
was  great  in  itself,  but  it  brought  that  with  it  which 
let  them  have  no  more  idle  days  for  a  long  time  to 
come. 


CHAPTER  XL 

I  SUPPOSE  that  there  are  very  few  people  who 
read  this  story  that  have  not  heard  of  the  great 
hurricane  of  1814,  for  I  take  it  that  very  few  will 
read  what  I  have  written  who  are  not  in  some  way 
related  or  connected  with  Tom  Granger,  and  all 
such  have  heard  him  tell  of  it  again  and  again. 
Nevertheless,  as  I  have  ink  and  paper  before  me, 
and  as  the  itch  of  writing  is  upon  me,  I  will  tell  it 
once  more  for  the  benefit  of  those  who  come  here- 
after, and  who  have  not  heard  of  it  from  Tom's 
own  mouth. 

This  hurricane  reached  over  a  zone  stretching  in 
breadth  from  Florida  to  the  Greater  Antilles.  It 
was  felt  more  heavily  in  the  northern  part  than 
anywhere  else;  so  that  Tom  and  Jack  passed 
through  "the  worst  of  it.  One  hundred  and  eight 
vessels  were  wrecked  in  the  harbors  and  on  the 
coast  of  this  region  during  the  progress  of  the 
hurricane,  and  the  death-list  was  known  to  reach  as 
high  as  one  hundred  and  six.  The  crops  suffered 
severely,  and  over  seven  hundred  houses  were 
destroyed. 

A  few  years  ago,  while  I  was  spending  a  couple 

127 


12  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

of  weeks  at  Atlantic  City  with  my  wife  and  two  of 
my  grandchildren,  I  met  a  Mr.  Fitzgerald.  He  was 
a  lad  living  at  Nassau  at  the  time  of  this  hurricane, 
and  he  not  only  remembered  it  well,  but  his  father, 
who  was  a  gentleman  much  interested  in  scientific 
matters,  had  kept  careful  data  and  memoranda 
relating  to  it. 

Mr.  Fitzgerald  was  a  very  bright  and  intelligent 
old  gentleman  at  the  time  that  I  met  him,  and  I 
was  much  interested  in  talking  the  matter  over 
with  him,  and  comparing  notes  regarding  it.  The 
storm  was  severe  enough  with  Tom  and  Jack,  but 
it  must  have  been  terrible  indeed  in  a  place  where 
there  were  so  many  lives  to  be  lost  and  so  much 
property  to  be  destroyed  as  in  Nassau.  He  told 
me  that  the  storm  began  with  them  about  ten 
o'clock  in  the  night  of  the  fourth  of  March,  and 
blew  with  great  violence  until  half-past  ten  o'clock 
in  the  morning  of  the  fifth.  The  barometer  at  that 
time  stood  at  27.06  inches,  which  was  the  lowest 
that  his  father  had  ever  seen  it.  From  that  time 
the  storm  subsided,  and  the  torrents  of  rain  began 
to  cease,  though  the  wind  continued  to  blow  with 
violence  until  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  But 
all  the  great  loss  of  life  and  properly  happened  in 
the  space  of  twelve  hours,  and  while  the  hurricane 
was  at  its  height. 

The  storm  began  at  an  earlier  hour  with  Jack 
and  Tom  than  it  did  at  Nassau,  according  to  Mr. 
Fitzgerald's  account  of  it.  I  know,  however,  th^t 
it  came  on  the  fourth  of  March,  because  that  is  the 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

day  before  Tom's  birthday,  which  comes  on  the 
fifth;  therefore  I  am  accurate  in  regard  to  my 
dates,  even  if  Mr.  Fitzgerald  had  not  corroborated 
the  account  that  I  have  always  given  of  it. 

It  was  a  peculiarly  sultry  day,  especially  for  that 
time  of  the  year.  Tom  and  Jack  were  fishing  in 
the  morning,  and,  though  they  were  sitting  still, 
the  sweat  kept  running  from  Tom's  face  in  streams, 
as  though  he  was  engaged  in  doing  a  hard  piece 
of  work.  All  morning  there  was  a  dead  stillness 
and  a  leaden  heaviness  in  the  air,  and  it  seemed 
as  though  it  was  a  labor  even  to  breathe.  The 
sea  gulls  kept  flying  around  the  reef  in  a  troubled 
way,  clamoring  as  they  flew,  and  seeming  to  be 
restless  and  uneasy  at  the  oppressive  stillness. 
The  sky  in  the  morning  was  of  a  dull  copperish 
color,  though  not  a  cloud  was  to  be  seen,  but,  as 
the  day  wore  along,  a  misty  haze  spread  above 
them,  through  which  the  sun  shone  red  and  dull, 
as  it  does  in  the  morning  and  evening,  when  it  is 
near  to  the  horizon.  Once  Jack  said : 

"Tom,  there's  something  going  to  happen.  I 
never  felt  anything  like  this  in  all  my  life  before ; 
and  did  you  ever  see  the  sea  gulls  behaving  as 
they  are  doing  now?  Mark  my  words,  Tom, 
there's  something  going  to  come  of  all  this  before 
the  day's  over." 

Tom  agreed  with  him  in  his  forebodings,  for  the 
oppression  that  he  was  laboring  under  made  him 
feel  singularly  apprehensive  and  uneasy  in  his 
mind.  In  the  afternoon  they  left  their  fishing  and 

9 


130  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

went  back  to  their  hut,  where  they  stretched  them- 
selves out  in  the  shade,  panting  for  breath,  for  it 
seemed  as  though  a  hot  blanket  had  been  spread 
above  them.  The  tame  sea  gull  sat  under  the  lee 
of  the  boat,  all  hunched  up  together.  Every  now 
and  then  it  would  look  restlessly  about,  uttering  a 
low,  whimpering  note  as  it  did  so. 

About  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  as  near  as 
Tom  could  judge,  a  strong  puff  of  wind  blew 
suddenly  from  the  south.  It  ceased  as  suddenly  as 
it  began,  but,  in  a  few  minutes  a  gust  as  sudden  and 
as  short-lived  blew  from  the  west.  Then  it  blew 
again,,  but  from  the  eastward.  This  time  it  was 
more  steady,  and  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  it  had 
increased  to  a  smart  gale.  It  seemed  to  bring 
some  coolness  with  it,  and  lifted  the  oppressed 
feeling  that  had  rested  upon  Tom  and  Jack  during 
the  morning.  Within  an  hour  or  so  of  sundown 
this  wind  died  away  completely,  and  then  it  was  as 
heavy,  and  as  still,  and  as  sultry  as  ever.  Then  half 
an  hour  passed  before  anything  farther  happened. 

Jack  and  Tom  were  busy  scaling  and  cleaning 
their  fish  when,  all  of  a  sudden,  a  shadow  fell  as 
though  a  hand  had  been  stretched  out  across  the 
sky.  Jack  ran  out  of  the  hut  with  his  knife  in  his 
hand,  and  the  next  moment  Tom  heard  him  calling 
to  him  in  a  loud  voice,  bidding  him  to  hurry  out 
and  look  at  what  was  coming.  Then  Tom  dropped 
everything  and  ran. 

As  I  said  before,  there  was  not  a  breath  of  air 
stirring,  and  yet  a  black  ragged  wrack  of  clouds 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  131 

was  flying  wildly  above  their  heads.  This  bellying 
sheet  of  clouds  hung  very  low  in  the  air;  above 
them  it  was  of  a  dull  leaden  color,  rimmed  with  a 
strange  reddish  light,  but  toward  the  west  it  was  as 
black  as  ink.  Although  there  was  no  wind  going, 
a  cold  air  seemed  to  breathe  out  of  the  black 
emptiness  of  the  west,  just  such  as  you  may  feel 
when  you  open  the  door  of  a  cool  room  in  the 
summer  time.  The  ocean  near  to  them  was  grey, 
with  the  light  from  the  east,  and  every  now  and 
then  a  white-cap  would  gleam,  with  a  pallid  light 
against  the  darkness  behind;  but  in  the  distance  it 
grew  darker  and  darker,  until  the  rim  of  the 
horizon  was  lost  in  the  inky  pall  beyond.  Every 
moment  the  gloom  fell  about  them,  until  it  seemed 
as  though  night  had  set  in,  though  it  was  a 
good  hour  till  sundown.  A  dull,  whispering 
moaning  sound  came  from  out  the  hollow  of  the 
west,  and  Tom  could  hear  it  through  all  the  beating 
and  thundering  of  the  surf  behind  him.  There 
was  something  awful  in  that  moaning  that  seemed 
to  fill  the  air  above  and  around  them ;  both  men 
stood  looking  out  toward  the  west,  and  neither  of 
them  said  a  word.  Tom  noticed  how  the  sea  gulls 
were  running  restlessly  up  and  down  the  beach, 
uttering  shrill  wild  cries  every  now  and  then,  but 
not  taking  to  wing. 

And  every  moment  the  deep  moaning  grew 
louder  and  louder. 

Suddenly  a  faint  breath  of  air  came,  and  instantly 
the  sound  of  the  surf  to  the  east  was  dulled  as 


132  UITfflN  THE  CAPES. 

though  a  blanket  had  been  spread  over  it.  Then 
there  was  a  pause, — then  there  was  a  wild  sweep  of 
the  wind, — then,  in  an  instant,  the  hollow  roar  was 
upon  them  and  around  them. 

Out  from  the  blackness  of  the  west  came  rushing 
an  awful  grey  cloud  of  mist  and  rain  and  salt  spray, 
and  before  I  can  write  these  words,  it  struck  the 
island  with  a  tremendous  and  thunderous  uproar. 
Tom  and  Jack  were  flung  backward  and  down  to 
the  ground  as  though  a  wall  had  fallen  upon  them, 
and  all  around  them  was  a  blinding  gloom  of  sand 
and  rain  and  spray.  Through  this  whirling  dark- 
ness Tom  saw  the  cutter  lifted  up  and  tossed  over 
and  over  like  a  dead  leaf.  Even  through  all  the 
uproar  he  could  distinctly  hear  the  noise  of  snap- 
ping and  rending  and  tearing,  as  the  trees  and 
bushes  of  the  thicket  near  to  them  were  being  torn 
up  by  the  roots.  Then  he  had  a  vision  of  one  of 
the  palmetto  trees  being  whirled  through  the  air  as 
though  it  were  a  straw. 

For  a  while  he  lay  clinging  flat  to  the  ground, 
digging  his  fingers  into  the  sand ;  but  after  a  while 
he  saw  that  Jack  was  crawling  on  his  hands  and 
knees  toward  the  lee  of  the  sand  hills,  not  far  away 
from  where  they  lay ;  then  he  followed  him  in  like 
manner. 

It  was  a  great  while  before  they  got  safely  to  the 
shelter  of  the  duns;  I  suppose  that  it  could  not 
have  taken  them  less  than  half  an  hour  to  cross  the 
two  hundred  yards  of  sand  that  lay  between  them 
and  the  lee  of  the  sand  hills,  Every  now  and  then 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  133 

a  heavier  gust  than  usual  would  come,  and  then 
they  would  lay  flat  upon  the  sand  again,  holding 
on  to  the  shifting  surface,  as  though  they  feared 
being  blown  bodily  away.  But  between  the  gusts 
they  would  contrive  to  crawl  a  few  feet  farther. 

At  last  they  reached  the  lee  of  the  hills,  and  so 
were  sheltered  from  the  full  force  of  the  wind, 
though  the  hurricane  bellowed  and  roared  above 
and  around  them  with  a  noise  such  as  Tom  never 
heard  before  or  since. 

The  rain  increased  till  it  fell  in  torrents ;  it  did 
not  beat  down  the  wind,  for  the  tempest  blew  more 
and  more  heavily  until  just  before  morning,  when 
it  was  something  frightful. 

All  that  night  the  rain  poured  down  upon  them 
in  a  deluge,  but  I  do  not  think  that  either  of  them 
noticed  it,  their  minds  being  taken  up  with  quite 
different  matters.  The  darkness  around  them  was 
utter  and  blank  beyond  what  I  can  tell  you.  You 
could  not  have  seen  your  hand  within  six  inches  of 
your  face.  It  seemed  as  though  the  end  of  all 
things  had  come. 

Tom  and  Jack  sat  hand  in  hand ; — when  one  of 
them  said  anything  to  the  other,  he  had  to  put  his 
lips  to  within  an  inch  of  his  companion's  ear,  to 
make  him  understand  a  single  word.  But  very 
little  was  said  between  them,  and  most  of  the  time 
they  sat  holding  one  another's  hand  in  silence. 
Now  and  then  the  ground  would  actually  tremble 
beneath  them,  and  at  times  a  dim  fear  passed 
through  Tom's  mind  that  the  very  sand  hill  above 


134  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

them  would  be  carried  bodily  away  with  the  force 
of  that  tremendous  blast.  About  day-break,  or 
what  would  have  been  day-break  at  an  ordinary 
time,  the  rain  ceased  to  fall,  though  the  hurricane 
still  raged  with  nearly  as  much  fury  as  ever. 

At  last  the  faint  grey  daylight  came,  and  after  a 
while  they  were  able  to  see  the  things  around  them 
pretty  clearly.  The  first  thing  that  Tom  saw  was  a 
white  sea  gull  crouched  on  the  ground  close  to 
him.  He  could  have  reached  out  his  hand  and 
have  touched  it,  but  it  did  not  seem  to  be  in  the 
least  afraid  at  his  presence.  There  were  hundreds 
of  them  around,  but  they  all  seemed  to  be  dulled 
with  terror,  and  made  no  effort  to  move  out  of  the 
way,  or  to  take  to  flight. 

At  length,  in  the  dim  morning  light,  the  ocean 
came  out  before  them;  it  was  a  strange  sight,  for 
the  surf  was  beaten  down  by  the  wind,  until  the 
sand  beach  reached  out  half  as  far  again  as  it  did 
on  ordinary  occasions. 

At  first  they  could  see  nothing  of  the  sandy  hook 
to  the  southward,  for,  though  no  sea  was  running, 
and  though  the  ocean  was  leveled  to  a  seething 
sheet  of  whiteness,  the  water  was  banked  up  in  the 
bay,  and  covered  the  sand  spit  completely.  The 
first  thought  that  occurred  to  Tom  was  that  the 
whole  bar  had  been  swallowed  up,  and  that  there 
had  been  an  earthquake,  though  they  had  not 
noticed  it  in  all  the  bewilderment  of  the  tempest. 
But,  as  the  light  grew  stronger  and  stronger,  they 
could  see  the  gleam  of  wet  sand  here  and  there. 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  135 

and  then  could  see  the  water  running  over  it  from 
the  bay  to  the  ocean. 

By  this  time  the  storm  was  beginning  to  fall, 
though  they  did  not  dare  to  leave  their  shelter  for 
an  hour  or  so  later,  and  though  the  wind  was  still 
heavy  until  the  middle  of  the  afternoon. 

When  they  did  leave  the  lee  of  the  hill,  the  sight 
was  strange  enough;  the  palmetto  trees  were  all 
gone  but  one,  and  it  was  more  than  half  stripped  of 
leaves. 

One  of  them  had  been  carried  more  than  a 
quarter  of  a  mile,  and  was  now  lying  half  buried  in 
the  sand  at  the  base  of  the  dun,  beneath  which  they 
had  taken  shelter. 

There  was  not  a  sign  of  their  home  in  the  sand 
hill,  for  not  only  was  the  place  levelled  over  as 
completely  as  though  it  had  never  been,  but  the 
very  shape  of  the  hills  themselves  had  been  changed 
by  the  sand  that  had  blown  against  them  here,  or 
had  been  carried  away  from  them  there. 

The  cutter  had  been  swept  away  to  a  distance  of 
two  or  three  hundred  yards.  It  had  lodged  in  a 
hollow  between  two  of  the  duns.  It  was  lying  keel 
up,  and  the  sand  was  banked  around  the  weather 
side  of  it  like  a  snowdrift.  Strange  enough,  it  was 
not  much  more  broken  than  it  had  been  before,  so 
they  got  it  back  again  in  a  day  or  two,  and  it  was 
still  sound  enough  to  serve  for  their  roof  for  the 
balance  of  the  time  that  they  stayed  on  the  island. 

The  great  stack  of  brushwood  that  they  had 
heaped  on  the  highest  sand-dun  had  all  been 


136  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

carried  away,  as  had  also  their  signal  tree  with  the 
bush  lashed  to  it.  Everything  \.as  salt  with  the 
spray  that  had  been  carried  inland,  and  the  island 
flats  were  dotted  all  over  with  pools  of  salt  water, 
that  had  been  blown  or  swept  over  the  land. 
Wherever  this  salt  water  lay  the  grass  was  killed 
or  blackened,  so  that  the  following  summer  the 
island  looked  as  though  fire  had  passed  over  it. 

Such  was  the  great  hurricane  of  1814  as  Tom 
Granger  and  Jack  Baldwin  felt  it;  and  I  think 
that  they  both  felt  it  in  its  full  force,  though 
they  escaped  from  it  with  no  more  harm  than  a 
thorough  wetting  and  a  great  fright.  It  took  them 
several  weeks  to  do  what  they  could  at  making 
good  the  damage  done,  and  then  it  was  not  fully 
repaired,  for  all  the  provisions  that  they  had  stored 
up  had  been  carried  away  or  had  been  covered  up 
by  the  sand  that  had  been  blown  before  the  blast. 

I  think  that  the  greatest  loss  that  they  suffered 
was  that  of  Tom's  jack-knife.  He  had  left  it  lying 
beside  the  fish  that  he  was  in  the  act  of  cleaning 
when  Jack  had  called  to  him  and  he  had  run  out 
of  the  hut.  They  looked  for  it  every  now  and 
then  for  several  days  afterward,  digging  about  the 
place  where  it  had  been  lost ;  but  their  hut  or  cave 
in  the  sand  hill  had  been  so  completely  covered, 
and  the  lay  of  the  hill  itself  had  been  so  entirely 
changed,  that  they  never  found  it  again. 

The  loss  of  a  jack-knife  may  seem  but  a  small 
thing  to  tell  you,  who  have  only  had  to  slip  around 
the  corner  and  buy  a  new  one  at  the  nearest 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  137 

hardware  shop.  But  there  was  no  hardware  shop 
near  to  Jack  and  Tom,  and  the  loss  of  the  jack- 
knife  was  a  very  great  ill  to  them. 

Neither  did  they  ever  see  the  tame  sea-gull 
again,  and  they  missed  the  sight  of  it  from  the  keel 
of  the  upturned  boat.  I  suppose  that  it  must  have 
been  swept  away  and  have  perished  in  the  hurricane. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

AND  now  a  little  more  than  a  week  had  passed 
since  the  great  hurricane  of  which  I  have  just 
told  you  fell  upon  them.  I  recollect  that  it  was  a 
Sunday  morning.  Sundays  were  generally  spent 
in  doing  no  work,  and  in  taking  a  stroll  around  the 
island.  But  they  had  had  no  rest  since  the  day  of 
the  storm,  for  the  time  between  then  and  now  had 
all  been  spent  in  repairing  the  damages  that  had 
been  wrought.  Now  they  were  pretty  comfortably 
settled  again,  and  the  day  being  bright  and  fair, 
they  had  fixed  that  it  should  be  spent  in  taking  a 
look  about  them. 

It  was  cool  and  pleasant,  and  they  strolled 
leisurely  up  the  western  side  of  the  island,  skirting 
the  belt  of  Mangrove  bushes,  around  the  northern 
end,  past  the  barren  sand  flat,  and  so  down  the 
Atlantic  beach  again.  By  the  middle  of  the  after- 
noon they  had  come  back  to  the  lower  end  of  the 
island,  and  had  gone  out  on  to  the  spit. 

The  water  that  had  washed  over  this  place  on 
the  day  of  the  storm  had  carried  away  a  great  deal 
of  the  sand.  The  surf  ran  much  farther  up  the 
beach,  and  Tom  noticed  that  the  ribs  of  the  wreck 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  139 

stood  higher  out  of  the  sand  than  he  had  ever  seen 
them.  They  did  not  go  farther  than  the  wreck,  but 
laid  themselves  down  close  to  it,  looking  out  across 
the  water  toward  the  distant  island  that  was  then 
looming  to  the  southward,  talking  about  it  and 
about  their  chances  of  getting  to  it. 

Jack  was  in  a  more  than  usually  downhearted 
state  as  to  their  not  being  able  to  get  away  from  the 
place  that  they  were  on.  He  said  that  so  far  as  he 
could  see,  they  might  have  to  live  there  all  their 
lives  and  then  die,  and  no  one  be  the  wiser  of  it. 
Tom  was  feeling  gloomy  himself  on  this  particular 
day,  and  he  felt  very  impatient  at  poor  Jack  when  he 
began  his  complaining.  He  felt  that  if  complaints 
were  to  be  made,  it  was  he  that  should  make  them, 
and  not  Jack,  for  had  he  not  much  more  to  lose  by 
staying  where  he  was  than  the  other  ?  I  know  how 
selfish  this  was,  but  there  are  times  when  we  are 
given  over  to  spells  of  selfishness,  and,  though  such 
a  state  may  be  very  wrong,  it  is  yet  very  natural. 

"  You  might  just  as  well  have  patience,  Jack," 
said  he,  "We've  tried  to  get  away  already,  and 
you  know  what  came  of  it.  We  certainly  can't 
live  here  forever  without  sighting  a  vessel  of  some 
sort  at  some  time  or  other." 

"  We  haven't  seen  a  sign  of  a  ship  up  to  this 
time,"  said  Jack,  gloomily. 

"  That's  very  true,  and  maybe  we'll  have  to  wait 
till  the  war's  over  before  one  comes  along.  You 
know  very  well  that  there's  no  shipping  being  done 
nowadays." 


140  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

"Wait  till  the  war's  over!"  cried  Jack,  raising 
himself  suddenly  on  his  elbow;  "why,  heavens  and 
earth,  man,  it  may  be  half  a  dozen  years  to  come, 
before  the  war's  over  ! " 

"  Perhaps  it  may  be  a  dozen  years,  for  all  that  I 
know,"  said  Tom,  "but  all  the  same  you'll  have  to 
wait,  so  you  may  just  as  well  keep  your  tongue  still 
between  your  teeth,  and  be  patient  about  it ! " 

"Wait?"  cried  Jack,  and  he  thumped  his 
clenched  fist  down  on  the  sand.  "  By  G —  I'll  not 
wait!  I'll  do  something;  see  if  I  don't!  I'll  not 
let  any  twenty  miles  of  water  keep  me  tied  up  in 
this  God-forsaken  place  !  Why  don't  you  do  some- 
thing ?  You're  so  full  of  your  d — d  contrivances 
for  making  us  comfortable ;  why  don't  you  puzzle 
out  some  plan  for  getting  us  off  altogether  ?" 

Tom  was  lying  on  the  sand,  his  hands  under  his 
head,  and  one  leg  crossed  comfortably  over  the 
other.  He  did  not  move  while  Jack  was  talking, 
and  he  made  a  point  of  seeming  to  be  very  easy 
under  it,  but  he  was  getting  more  and  more  angry 
all  the  time.  He  did  not  answer  Jack  immediately, 
but  after  a  while  he  spoke  as  quietly  as  he  could. 

"You're  unreasonable,  Jack,"  said  he.  "Haven't 
I  done  everything  that  I  could  do  to  get  us  away ; 
haven't  I  built  a  raft  and  put  up  signals  on  the  sand 
hills ;  haven't  I  set  a  dozen  or  more  bladder-bags 
adrift  ?  The  chances  are  that  some  of  them'll  be 
picked  up,  and  in  good  time  a  ship'll  come  to  us. 
I  don't  see  that  you  have  any  reason  to  complain, 
and  if  you  have  reason,  you'd  better  try  to  do 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  141 

something  yourself; — you're  welcome  to  it.  As  for 
our  getting  away; — we've  tried  to  get  away  already, 
and  you  know  what  came  of  it.  In  my  opinion  we 
came  so  devilish  near  getting  away,  that  we  liked 
never  to  have  got  back  to  this  or  to  any  other 
island." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you're  so  scared  at  a 
little  risk  that  you're  afraid  to  try  it  over  again  ?  " 

"I  don't  know  about  being  scared,  but  I  cer- 
tainly ain't  going  to  try  it  over  again." 

"You  ain't?" 

"  No." 

Jack  did  not  say  a  word  for  a  little  while,  but 
Tom  felt  that  he  was  looking  at  him  very  hard. 
At  last  he  spoke  again. 

"  It's  my  belief,  Tom  Granger,"  said  he,  "  that 
you  haven't  got  an  ounce  of  pluck  left  about  you. 
I  believe  that  you're  that  dull  that  you'd  be  content 
to  live  here  forever,  if  you  could  get  enough  to  fill 
your  belly ! " 

This  was  too  much  for  Tom.  He  sat  up  sud- 
denly, facing  the  other.  "  Jack  Baldwin,"  said  he, 
and  his  voice  trembled  with  his  anger,  "  understand 
me,  once  for  all.  If  we're  to  live  together,  or  to 
talk  together,  or  to  have  anything  to  do  with  one 
another,  I  never  want  to  hear  such  speech  from 
your  mouth  as  you've  just  given  me;  do  you 
understand  me?" 

Here  he  paused  for  a  moment,  and  then  he  burst 
out  passionately :  "  What  do  you  know  how  much 
I  want  to  get  away  ?  Do  you  suppose  that  I  don't 


142  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

want  to  get  away  because  I  don't  keep  up  an  ever- 
lasting whimpering  and  whining  about  it,  as  you 
do  ?  What  do  you  want  to  get  away  for,  anyhow  ? 
Is  the  only  woman  that  you  love  in  all  the  world 
waiting  at  home  for  you,  looking  for  you,  and 
praying  for  you,  and  wondering  why  she  don't 
hear  from  you — thinking,  maybe,  that  you're  dead. 
God  help  her !  I  wish  that  I  was  dead,  and  that 
she  knew  it.  It  would  be  better  for  us  both,  I 
guess!"  Then  he  rested  his  elbows  on  his  knees 
and  buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  rocking  his  body 
to  and  fro  as  he  sat. 

Jack  did  not  say  another  word,  and  in  a  few 
moments  Tom  heard  him  get  up  and  walk  away. 
After  a  little  while  Tom  got  a  grip  on  himself  and 
looked  up  again. 

Jack  was  standing  just  below  the  wreck  and  over 
toward  the  ocean.  He  had  gathered  what  seemed 
to  be  a  handful  of  small,  black,  flat  shells,  and  he 
was  busy  in  skimming  them  out  across  the  surf. 
Presently  Tom  got  up  and  walked  slowly  over  to 
where  he  was  standing.  He  was  heartily  ashamed 
of  the  way  in  which  he  had  spoken  to  the  other, 
and  would  have  given  a  great  deal  if  he  could  only 
have  recalled  his  words ;  but  that  is  a  thing  that 
can  never  be  done.  He  stood  a  little  behind  Jack, 
with  his  hands  in  his  breeches  pockets,  looking 
down  at  the  sand  the  while.  After  a  while  Jack 
spoke,  without  looking  around. 

"Look'ee,  Tom  Granger,"  said  he,  doggedly, 
"  I'm  sorry  I  spoke  to  you  the  way  that  I  did.  I 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  143 

didn't  know  that  you  had  a  sweetheart  at  home, — 
you  ought  to  ha'  told  me  before.  I'll  never  say 
any  more  about  getting  away,  if  I  have  to  stay  on 
this  d — d  island  to  the  crack  of  doom,  and  that  I 
promise  you." 

" That's  all  right,"  muttered  Tom;  "don't  let's 
say  any  more  about  it." 

One  of  the  round  black  things  that  Jack  was 
skimming  out  to  sea,  lay  at  his  feet,  and  without 
knowing  what  he  did,  he  stooped  and  picked  it  up 
as  he  was  speaking.  He  turned  it  over  and  over 
in  his  palm  in  an  absent  sort  of  a  way,  for  he  was 
feeling  very  uncomfortable  at  the  time. 

He  turned  it  over  and  over,  until,  after  a  while, 
it  worked  through  his  sight  into  his  mind ;  then  he 
looked  more  closely  at  it,  for  he  had  never  seen  the 
like  of  it  before.  It  was  not  a  shell,  neither  was  it 
a  pebble,  for  there  were  no  pebbles  on  the  island. 
It  was  thin  and  perfectly  round,  and  as  black  as 
ink.  On  one  side  of  it  was  a  raised  surface  that 
bore  a  faint  likeness  to  the  rude  image  of  a  head; 
below  this  was  something  that  looked  like  a  row  of 
small  figures.  He  brushed  it  smooth  with  the  palm 
of  his  hand,  and  then  looked  more  closely  at  it, 
turning  it  around  and  around,  and  this  way  and 
that.  All  of  a  sudden  a  thought  struck  him,  and  I 
cannot  describe  the  thrill  that  went  through  him  as 
he  looked  at  that  which  he  held.  As  this  thought 
went  through  his  mind,  he  closed  his  hand  and 
looked  slowly  around  him,  as  though  he  was  in  a 
dream.  I  can  distinctly  recollect  that  that  singular 


144  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

feeling  which  we  all  have  felt  at  times  passed  over 
him; — a  feeling  as  though  all  this  had  happened 
before,  but  as  though  it  had  happened  in  a  dream. 
Then  he  looked  at  the  object  once  more,  and  could 
just  make  out  the  figures; — they  were  i,  7,  9  and  2. 
He  picked  at  the  edge  of  the  disk,  and  a  white 
sparkle  followed  the  scratching  of  his  thumb  nail. 

"  Good  Lord,  Jack  ! "  cried  he,  "  look  !  look ! " 

There  was  a  ring  in  his  voice  that  made  Jack 
jump  as  though  he  had  been  struck.  "Look  at 
what,  Tom  ?  "  said  he,  in  a  half-frightened  voice. 

"  Look  at  this  ! "  said  Tom,  and  he  held  out  that 
which  he  had  picked  up  a  minute  before.  "  What 
do  you  think  it  is?" 

Jack  had  three  or  four  of  them  in  his  own  hand. 
"  I  don't  know,"  said  he,  turning  them  over  and 
over.  Suddenly  he  too  began  to  look  more  closely 
at  them.  "  Why,  Tom— Tom—"  he  began,  "  is  it 
—is  it—" 

"  It's  money ; — it's  silver  money,  Jack,  as  sure  as 
I  am  a  living  sinner ! " 

"Why,  so  it  is!"  cried  Jack,  "why,  so  it  is, 
Tom !  This  is  a  half  a  dollar,  and  so  is  this,  and 
this,  and  this!  Why,  Tom,  here's  another,  and 
another !  Great  heavens,  Tom  !  the  sand's  covered 
with  them!" 

And  so  it  was.  Here  and  there  would  be  two  or 
three  lying  together,  but  in  most  cases  they  were 
scattered  about  like  shells  at  high  water  mark. 
Jack  sat  down  quite  overcome,  and  then  began 
laughing  in  a  foolish  sort  of  a  way,  but  there  was  a 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  145 

catch  in  his  laugh  that  sounded  mightily  like  cry- 
ing. "  Tom,"  said  he,  "we're  rich  men  !  Tom,  did 
you  ever  see  or  hear  of  the  like  ?  Why,  Tom — " 

Then  he  stopped  all  of  a  sudden,  and,  scrambling 
to  his  feet,  fell  to  gathering  up  the  money  as 
though  he  had  been  crazy. 

For  an  hour  or  more  they  hunted  up  and  down, 
picking  up  silver  pieces  as  children  pick  up  chest- 
nuts under  a  chestnut  tree.  After  a  while  they 
only  found  a  few  stray  coins  here  and  there,  and 
finally  they  cleared  the  beach  of  them  altogether. 
Then  they  sat  down  to  count  them.  Tom  had 
about  two  hundred  dollars;  Jack  had  gathered 
more  nearly  three  hundred  than  two.  Altogether 
they  had  a  little  less  than  five  hundred  dollars 
between  them. 

"  Where  do  you  suppose  they  came  from,  Tom  ?  " 
said  Jack,  after  a  while.  He  was  sitting  on  the 
sand  when  he  spoke,  holding  a  lot  of  the  coins  in 
his  hand  and  turning  them  over  with  his  fingers. 

Tom  shook  his  head.  This  was  the  same 
thought  that  had  been  puzzling  him  for  some  time 
past,  and,  as  yet,  he  had  not  been  able  to  answer  it. 

After  a  while  they  went  back  to  their  hut,  carry- 
ing their  money  with  them.  Jack  was  very  talka- 
tive and  excited,  but  Tom  was  as  silent  as  the  other 
was  noisy,  for  he  was  pondering  over  the  matter  of 
Jack's  question — Where  did  they  all  come  from  ? 

Where  did  they  all  come  from  ?  He  thought 
and  thought  till  his  brain  was  muddled  with  his 
thinking.  Could  there  have  been  a  treasure  buried 

10 


146  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

here  by  the  buccaneers  in  times  past?  It  was  a  wild 
thought,  but  Tom  was  ready  for  any  kind  of  wild 
thought  at  the  time.  But  then  the  date  of  the  coin 
that  he  had  found — 1792 — that  was  long  after  the 
time  of  the  buccaneers.  He  picked  up  another  piece 
and  looked  at  it;  it  also  bore  the  same  date,  1792, 
and  so  did  another  and  another ;  they  were  all  of 
the  same  mintage.  He  did  not  know  what  to  think 
of  it. 

Jack  must  have  had  a  notion  that  Tom  was 
puzzling  his  wits  over  this,  for  he  sat  beside  the  fire 
all  of  the  evening  without  saying  a  word.  Every 
now  and  then  he  arose  and  threw  some  more  brush- 
wood on  the  flames  ;  beyond  that  he  hardly  moved, 
but  sat  in  silence,  watching  Tom  furtively. 

"  Tom,"  said  he,  at  last. 

"  Well,  Jack." 

"  Do  you  suppose  that  it  could  rain  money?" 

"  Stuff  and  nonsense !  " 

"  I  don't  see  any  stuff  and  nonsense  about  it.  I've 
heard  of  it  raining  stones,  and  why  shouldn't  it 
rain  money  as  well  ?  We  never  found  any  before 
that  hurricane  came  on  us." 

"  That's  true  enough,  Jack,"  said  Tom,  "  I  hadn't 
thought  of  that."  For  the  finding  of  this  money 
had  driven  all  thought  of  the  hurricane  out  of  his 
head. 

"  Then  you  think  it  might  have  rained  money, 
after  all?" 

"  No ;  I  don't  think  that." 

"  Humph !     Well,  what  do  you  think  about  it?" 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  147 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  think  about  it ;  but 
you've  put  a  new  idea  into  my  head." 

It  was  later  than  usual  when  they  went  to  rest 
that  night.  Tom  laid  awake  hour  after  hour,  his 
thoughts  as  busy  as  bees.  Where  had  the  money 
come  from  ?  This  was  the  question  that  ran 
through  his  brain  unceasingly,  keeping  him  awake 
as  the  silent  night  moved  along.  And  then, 
why  should  all  the  coins  bear  the  same  date  of 
1792? 

Suddenly  the  whole  thing  opened  before  him, 
and  he  saw  it  all  as  clearly  as  I  see  the  hand  before 
my  face.  He  could  hardly  help  shouting  aloud, 
but  he  bethought  him  that  Jack  might  be  asleep, 
and  that  it  would  be  a  pity  to  awaken  him. 

"  Jack,"  whispered  he,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Helloa ! "  said  the  other,  quickly,  for  he  was 
wide  awake. 

"  I  think  I've  found  it  out !  " 

"  Found  out  what?  " 

"  Found  where  the  money  came  from." 

"  Well,  where  did  it  come  from  ?  "  said  Jack,  and 
Tom  could  see  in  the  gloom  that  he  sat  up  in  his 
excitement. 

"  Did  you  notice  that  all  the  money  bore  the 
same  date,  1792  ?  "  said  Tom. 

"  No ;  I  didn't  notice  that." 

"  Well,  it  did,  and,  what's  more,  it's  all  Spanish 
money." 

"  But  where  did  it  come  from  ?  "  said  Jack. 

"  Jack/'  said  Tom,  slowly,  "  as  sure  as  I'm  lying 


148  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

here,  that  wreck  on  the  sand-spit  is  the  wreck  of 
a  Spanish  treasure  ship." 

"  Tom  !  "  shouted  Jack,  "  you're  right !  What  a 
fool  I  was  not  to  think  of  that !  Why,  it's  as  plain 
as  the  nose  on  your  face  !  " 

No  doubt  you  who  read  this  have  guessed  the 
matter  long  ago,  and  have  wondered  that  Tom  and 
Jack  were  so  dull  of  wits  as  not  to  have  thought  of 
it  before.  But  the  idea  never  entered  their  heads 
that  a  fortune  was  lying  buried  in  the  sand  that 
covered  the  poor  old  wreck  that  had  been  so 
constantly  before  their  eyes  for  almost  a  year,  and 
when  they  found  money  like  pebbles  along  the 
beach,  it  never  struck  them  that  it  could  have  been 
washed  out  of  those  crumbling  ribs,  whose  only 
value  had  been  that  they  gave  them  a  rusty  spike 
every  now  and  then. 

Jack  was  wild  to  go  out  into  the  night,  and  to 
hunt  for  money  there  and  then,  and  it  was  as  much 
as  Tom  could  do  to  quiet  him  and  make  him  lie 
down  and  try  to  get  a  little  sleep.  Of  course, 
neither  of  them  caught  a  wink,  and  both  were 
stirring  at  the  dawn  of  day. 

They  hardly  ate  a  bite  of  food  before  they  set  to 
work. 

By  noontide  Tom  had  made  a  couple  of  rude 
shovels,  the  blades  of  which  were  of  the  plankings 
of  the  cutter  over  their  heads,  and  the  handles  of 
which  were  two  straight  limbs,  cut  from  the  neigh- 
boring thicket,  It  was  a  long  tedious  piece  of 
work  to  make  these  shovels,  for  Tom  had  no  tools 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  149 

to  work  with  but  Jack's  knife,  and  only  half  of  the 
blade  of  that  was  left.  Tom  labored  steadily  at  the 
shovels,  but  Jack  was  very  impatient  at  the  slowness 
of  the  work,  and  was  continually  urging  him  to 
hurry  matters.  I  suppose  that  he  was  back  and 
forth  from  the  hut  to  the  wreck  a  dozen  times  in 
the  course  of  the  morning. 

But  at  last  the  shovels  were  finished.  Tom  tried 
to  persuade  Jack  to  eat  a  bite  before  he  went  to 
work,  but  Jack  would  have  nothing  to  do  with 
food;  he  shouldered  the  two  shovels  and  started 
away  to  the  sand-spit,  leaving  Tom  to  cook  and  eat 
his  dinner  by  himself.  When  Tom  went  over  to 
the  wreck  a  half  an  hour  later,  he  found  Jack  busily 
at  work,  and  a  great  hole  already  scooped  out  in 
the  sand, — but  Jack  had  not  yet  found  a  cent  of 
money. 

I  do  not  think  that  they  had  any  idea  of  what 
they  were  undertaking,  and  what  a  tremendous 
piece  of  work  it  was  that  lay  before  them.  I  confess 
that  Tom  was  as  foolish  as  Jack,  in  having  a  notion 
that  all  they  would  have  to  do  would  be  to  scoop 
away  a  little  sand,  and  pick  up  money  by  the  hand- 
ful ;  but  they  found  nothing  either  on  that  day  or 
the  next,  or  the  next,  or  for  a  week  or  more  to 
come.  Jack  began  to  be  very  much  discouraged, 
and  said  more  than  once  that  he  was  certain  that 
Tom  had  been  mistaken  in  his  notion  that  the 
wreck  was  that  of  a  treasure  ship, 

Tom  himself  began  to  be  a  little  down-hearted, 
more  than  one?  suspected  that  he  had  made 


ISO  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

a  wrong  guess.  But  when  he  brought  to  mind 
that  the  money  was  of  one  mintage,  and,  from  the 
way  in  which  it  lay,  that  it  was  plainly  washed  out 
of  the  wreck  by  the  water  that  had  flowed  over  the 
sand-spit  at  the  time  of  the  hurricane,  he  would 
feel  reassured  that  he  was  right,  though  he  could 
not  account  for  the  reason  why  a  part  of  it  should 
have  been  washed  up,  while  the  rest  seemed  to  lie 
so  deeply  beneath  the  surface.  So  he  managed  to 
keep  Jack  pretty  steadily  to  his  work,  though,  as 
the  days  dragged  along  and  nothing  came  of  their 
labor,  it  became  a  great  task  to  do  so. 

But  on  the  tenth  day  they  made  a  find.  They 
were  just  about  to  give  up  their  work  for  the  even- 
ing, when  Tom  unearthed  a  small,  wooden  box. 
It  was  about  a  foot  long,  six  inches  wide,  and  three 
or  four  inches  deep.  It  was  very  rotten,  and  fell  to 
pieces  as  Jack  tried  to  pick  it  up.  It  was  full  of 
money,  which  tumbled  all  in  a  heap  as  the  box 
crumbled  in  Jack's  hand.  The  money  must  have 
been  in  rolls  when  it  was  put  into  the  case,  for 
there  were  scraps  of  mouldy  paper  mixed  with  it, 
and  some  of  the  coins  had  bits  of  paper  glued  to 
them  by  the  black  rust  that  had  gathered  upon 
them. 

This  was  the  first  money  that  they  found  by 
digging,  and  Jack  nearly  went  crazy  over  it.  Tom 
himself  was  very  much  excited,  but  he  did  not  act 
as  absurdly  as  Jack,  who  danced,  and  laughed,  and 
shouted  like  one  possessed.  It  was  their  first 
gleam  of  good  luck,  and  it  was  a  good  thing  that 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  151 

it  came  when  it  did,  for  it  was  speedily  followed  by 
the  worst  of  ill  fortune. 

That  night  there  came  a  south-east  storm  that 
did  great  damage.  It  had  been  brewing  all  of  the 
afternoon,  but  Tom  and  Jack  had  not  seen  it,  or,  if 
they  had  seen  it,  had  thought  nothing  of  it,  for 
heretofore  the  wash  of  the  surf  had  never  run  as  far 
up  as  the  wreck,  even  in  the  heaviest  weather.  But 
so  much  of  the  sand  had  been  carried  away  that 
the  surf  came  a  great  deal  higher  than  it  had  done 
before.  It  was  blowing  quite  heavily  when  Tom 
and  Jack  went  over  to  the  sand-spit  the  next  morn- 
ing, and  a  part  of  the  wash  of  the  breakers  had 
found  its  way  into  the  place  that  they  had  been 
digging,  so  that  the  sand  had  caved  in  here  and 
there.  They  tried  to  do  all  that  they  could  to 
protect  their  work,  but  it  was  no  good,- for,  by  the 
time  that  evening  had  come,  the  place  that  they 
had  dug  out  was  half  full  of  sand,  and  by  the  next 
morning  it  was  nearly  levelled  over,  and  all  of  their 
labor  was  to  be  done  again.  As  soon  as  the  storm 
was  over  they  set  to  work,  and  in  a  week's  time 
had  the  sand  nearly  all  dug  out.  Then  came 
another  blow,  and  the  same  thing  happened  as 
before. 

After  this  they  set  about  the  work  with  more 
system.  They  built  a  breakwater  of  stakes,  between 
which  they  wove  twigs  and  grass.  This  was  Tom's 
plan,  and  they  found  that  it  kept  the  sea  back 
completely,  for,  as  I  have  said,  it  was  only  the  wash 
of  the  breakers  that  ran  over  the  place  that  they 


152  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

were  at  work.  It  never  filled  up  again  as  long  as 
Tom  and  Jack  were  engaged  upon  it. 

But  all  this  cost  a  great  deal  of  time  and  labor, 
and  I  doubt  very  much  if  they  had  not  found  the 
box  of  money  whether  they  would  ever  have  struck 
a  shovel  into  the  sand  again  after  the  first  storm 
came  upon  them ;  so  that  it  was  a  lucky  thing  that 
they  found  the  box  when  they  did,  and  that  the 
southeaster  did  not  come  a  day  sooner. 

For  three  or  four  months  they  worked  as  never 
men  worked  before.  It  is  strange  to  think  of  how 
men  will  labor  and  toil  for  money,  even  when 
money  will  do  them  as  little  good  as  it  did  Jack 
and  Tom  on  this  lonely  island.  It  is  a  wonder  that 
they  did  not  kill  themselves  with  the  work  and  the 
hardships  that  they  went  through  during  that  time. 
However,  the  excitement  that  they  were  living 
under  kept  them  up  to  a  great  degree. 

During  all  these  months  they  lived  upon  little 
else  than  fish.  Now  and  then  they  would  gather  a 
few  mussels  or  catch  a  crab  or  two,  but  their  chief 
living  was  fish — broiled  fish  for  breakfast,  dinner  and 
supper,  until  they  both  grew  to  loathe  the  very 
sight  of  it.  Tom  got  such  a  surfeit  of  them  in  that 
time  that  he  could  never  bear  the  smell  of  a  frying 
fish  from  that  day  to  this. 

Upon  the  first  of  September  they  counted  over 
the  money  that  they  had  unearthed,  and  they  found 
that  they  had  over  eight  thousand  dollars  in  all. 
It  was  made  up  of  silver  coins  of  all  sizes,  large 
and  small. 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  153 

They  only  had  three  days  more  of  work  on  the 
island,  and,  as  two  of  those  days  were  blank,  they 
did  not  add  very  much  to  the  sum  that  they  had 
already  gathered. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

IT  was  the  morning  of  the  3d  of  September  of 
the  same  year, — 1814. 

Tom  and  Jack  had  just  finished  their  breakfast; — 
it  was  of  broiled  fish.  Hughy !  It  makes  me 
shudder  even  now  to  think  of  it,  for  I  do  hate  the 
very  sight  of  a  fish. 

The  work  of  digging  at  the  wreck  had  settled 
down  to  a  very  jog-trot  business  by  this  time. 
Neither  of  the  men  were  in  a  hurry  to  quit  their 
comfortable  seat  on  the  sand  and  turn  to  hard  work, 
that  had  lost  all  the  savor  of  novelty  it  had  had  at 
first.  The  first  day  that  they  had  struck  shovel 
into  the  sand  above  the  wreck,  Jack  had  started  off 
eagerly,  without  eating  a  bite;  he  was  quite  willing 
to  eat  a  meal  now, — even  a  meal  of  broiled  fish — 
and  to  take  a  goodly  while  to  the  eating  of  it  also. 
So  they  both  sat  dwadling  over  their  unsavory 
food,  not  at  all  anxious  to  make  a  start. 

"Well,  Jack,"  said  Tom,  at  last;  "I  suppose  that 
we  might  as  well  be  stirring." 

"I  reckon  we  might,"  said  Jack,  and  then  he 
stretched  himself,  as  a  first  step  toward  getting  up. 

At  that  moment  a  sound  fell  upon  their  ears.  It 
154 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  I$5 

was  not  one  to  which  you  would  have  given  a 
second  thought,  and  yet  if  it  had  been  a  clap  of 
thunder  out  of  a  clear  sky,  it  could  not  have 
startled  the  two  more  than  it  did. 

When  they  had  rebuilt  their  hut  after  it  had  been 
destroyed  by  the  great  hurricane,  they  had  not 
located  in  the  same  spot  in  which  they  had  lived 
before.  An  eddy  of  the  wind  had  scooped  a  hollow 
out  of  the  side  of  the  sand  hill,  and  it  was  in  the 
side  of  this  cup-shaped  hollow  that  they  had  digged 
their  house,  and  had  roofed  it  in  with  the  cutter  as 
they  had  done  before;  for  they  thought  that  they 
would  be  more  sheltered  in  this  spot  if  another 
hurricane  should  come  upon  them.  Looking  from 
this  hollow  in  front  of  them,  they  could  see  nothing 
but  a  part  of  the  western  ocean  and  the  upper  end 
of  the  sand-spit,  whereupon  they  worked  from  day 
to  day.  It  was  just  back  of  them,  and  from  the 
crest  or  brim  of  this  sandy  bowl  that  the  sound 
came  that  startled  them  so  greatly. 
It  was  the  sound  of  a  man's  voice. 
"Ahoy  there!" 

For  a  moment  Jack  and  Tom  looked  at  one 
another  without  turning  around.  This  minute  I 
can  see  just  how  Jack  stared  at  Tom;  his  mouth 
agape,  and  his  eyes  as  big  as  saucers.  But  it  was 
only  for  a  moment  that  they  sat  looking  at  one 
another  so  amazedly,  for  the  next  instant  they 
jumped  to  their  legs  and  turned  around. 

A  burly  red-faced  man  was  standing  on  the  crest 
of  the  white  sand  hill,  his  figure  sharply  marked 


I  $6  WITHiN  THE  CAPES. 

against  the  blue  sky  behind  him.  His  hands  were 
thrust  deeply  into  his  breeches  pockets,  and  he  stood 
with  his  legs  a  little  apart.  He  had  a  short  cutty 
pipe  betwixt  his  teeth ; — the  bowl  was  turned  topsey- 
turvey,  and  there  was  no  light  in  it.  When  he  saw 
that  Tom  and  Jack  were  looking  at  him,  he  spoke 
again,  without  taking  the  pipe  from  out  his  mouth. 

"Are  you  fellows  the  first  and  second  mates  of 
the  Nancy  Hazlewood,  privateersman  ?" 

Jack  nodded  his  head. 

The  man  turned  and  beckoned  two  or  three  times, 
and  then  came  slowly  and  carefully  down  the  steep 
side  of  the  sand  dun,  half  sliding,  half  stumbling. 
The  first  thing  that  he  said  when  he  came  to  where 
they  were,  was : 

"I  just  tell  you  what  it  is,  mates;  that  mess  of 
fish  smells  mighty  good."  Then  he  asked  which 
of  them  was  the  first  mate. 

"  I'm  the  first  mate,"  said  Jack. 

By  this  time  three  or  four  heads  rose  above  the 
crest  of  the  hill,  and  a  little  knot  of  sailors  gathered 
on  the  top  of  the  dun;  then  they  came  jumping 
and  sliding  and  stumbling  down  to  where  the  others 
were  standing. 

But  all  this  time  Tom  was  like  one  in  a  dream. 
I  think  that  he  must  have  been  dazed  by  the 
suddenness  of  the  coming  of  that  for  which  he 
had  longed  so  bitterly  and  so  deeply.  He  tried  to 
realize  that  they  were  rescued ;  that  these  men  were 
about  to  take  them  away;  that  they  were  really  to 
leave  the  island  that  had  been  their  prison  for  so 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  157 

many  long  and  weary  days,  and  that  in  a  few  weeks 
at  the  furthest,  he  would  be  in  Eastcaster  again, 
and  would  see  Patty,  and  would  be  talking  with 
her  of  all  these  things.  Many  a  time  in  the  silence 
of  the  lonely  night,  he  had  pictured  their  rescue  to 
himself,  and  in  the  sleep  that  followed,  he  had 
perhaps  dreamed  that  a  boat  was  lying  on  the  beach 
below  their  hut,  and  then  had  wakened  to  the 
bitterness  of  its  being  only  a  dream.  But  now  that 
rescue  had  in  truth  come  to  them,  he  could  no 
more  realize  it  than  you  or  I  can  realize  that  we  are 
really  to  see  the  other  world,  some  time  to  come. 
So  he  stood  leaning  against  the  poor  old  shattered 
cutter  that  had  sheltered  Jack  and  him  for  so  long, 
and  as  he  leaned  there  he  looked  about  him,  won- 
dering dully,  whether  or  not  he  would  not  awaken 
in  a  few  minutes  and  find  this  too  to  be  only  a 
dream.  He  heard  the  man  who  had  hailed  them, 
telling  Jack  that  he  was  the  first  mate  of  the  barque 
Baltimore,  of  Baltimore,  and  that  they  were  bound 
for  New  York  from  Key  West,  having  run  fifty 
miles  out  of  their  course  to  pick  them  up  at  this 
island.  He  heard  him  ask  Jack  which  one  of 
them  had  set  the  bladder  of  porpoise  hide  adrift, 
that  the  Baltimore  had  picked  up  off  the  Florida 
coast,  and  saw  that  Jack  jerked  his  thumb  toward 
him,  and  that  the  mate  of  the  Baltimore  was 
looking  at  him,  and  was  saying  that  it  was  a 
d — d  clever  Yankee  trick.  He  saw  the  sailors 
crowding  around,  looking  here  and  there;  peeping 
and  prying  into  the  doorway  of  the  hut,  and  talking 


158  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

amongst  themselves.  "Blast  my  eyes,  Tommy, 
look  at  this  here  shanty!"  "Well,  I'm  cussed  if 
they  hain't  got  a  ship's  boat  slung  up  for  a  roof ! " 
"Damme!  look  at  his  beard  and  hair;  (this  in  a 
hoarse  whisper)  he's  the  second  mate,  Bill;  — 
Granger,  you  know." 

Then  he  heard  Jack  ask  the  mate  of  the  Baltimore 
for  a  chew  of  tobacco.  He  cut  off  the  piece  of  the 
plug  with  his  old  broken  jack-knife,  and  Tom 
watched  him  doing  it  as  though  it  was  a  matter  of 
the  greatest  moment  to  him.  I  can  recollect  that 
he  thought  dully  how  Jack  must  enjoy  his  tobacco 
after  having  been  so  long  without  it. 

After  a  while  there  was  a  movement,  and  he 
heard  Jack  calling  to  him  to  come  along,  as  they 
were  all  going  over  to  the  boat,  but  it  was  still  in 
the  same  dazed  state  that  he  walked  along  the 
beach  writh  the  others  until  they  came  around  the 
end  of  the  sand  hills,  saw  the  bay  open  before  him, 
and  the  barque  floating  like  a  swan  upon  the 
smooth  surface  of  the  water.  A  ship's  boat  was 
lying  high  and  dry  on  the  sand  of  the  beach,  and 
two  sailors  were  sitting  in  the  stern,  smoking  com- 
fortably and  talking  together.  They  tumbled  out 
of  the  boat  and  stood  looking  as  the  others  drew 
near,  and  Tom  thought  what  a  strange  sight  Jack 
and  he  must  be — ragged,  tattered,  patched,  half- 
naked,  with  beards  reaching  to  their  breasts,  and 
heads  uncovered,  excepting  for  the  mat  of  hair  that 
hung  as  low  as  their  shoulders.  He  had  not 
thought  of  their  looking  strange  before  this. 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  159 

So  they  reached  the  boat,  and  Tom  stood  for  a 
moment  looking  down  into  it  and  at  the  oars  lying 
along  the  thwarts  within.  Then  he  and  Jack  and 
Mr.  Winterbury  (the  first  mate)  climbed  in  and  the 
boat  was  shoved  off,  grating  on  the  sand  as  it 
moved  into  the  water.  There  was  a  rattle  of  oars 
dropped  into  the  rowlocks,  and  then  the  regular 
"  chug !  chug ! "  of  the  rowing.  He  looked  back 
and  saw  the  island  and  the  beach  and  the  white  sand 
hills  that  he  knew  so  well  dropping  slowly  astern. 
It  seemed  very  strange  to  be  looking  at  them  from 
the  ocean.  At  last  they  were  close  to  where  the 
barque  was  slowly  rising  and  falling  upon  the 
heaving  of  the  ground  swell  that  came  rolling  in 
around  the  point  of  the  sandy  hook  beyond.  This 
is  the  way  in  which  their  rescue  came. 

As  they  swept  under  the  lee  of  the  barque  Mr. 
Winterbury  stood  up  in  the  stern  sheets  of  the 
boat.  There  were  a  row  of  faces  looking  down  at 
them  from  the  forecastle,  and  two  or  three  sailors 
were  standing  on  the  bulwarks,  holding  on  to  the 
shrouds.  They,  too,  were  looking  down  into  the 
boat.  Two  men  were  standing  near  to  the  break 
of  the  poop.  One  of  them  was  a  handsome  young 
fellow  of  about  twenty ;  the  other  was  a  tall,  rather 
loose-jointed  man,  somewhat  round-shouldered,  and 
a  little  past  the  prime  of  life.  He  had  his  hands 
clasped  behind  him,  and  he  hailed  the  first  mate  as 
soon  as  the  cutter  came  alongside. 

"Did  you  find  them  all  safe  and  sound,  Mr, 
Winterbury?" 


160  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

"  Yes,  sir ;  safe  and  sound." 

Mr.  Winterbury  went  up  the  side  first,  and  Jack 
and  Tom  followed  close  at  his  heels.  They  were 
met  by  Captain  Williamson  as  soon  as  they  had 
stepped  upon  the  deck.  He  shook  hands  with 
them,  and  immediately  asked  them  to  step  into  the 
cabin,  for  he  must  have  seen  that  it  was  trying  to 
them  to  be  stared  at  by  all  of  the  ship's  crew. 
There  was  a  decanter  of  Madeira  and  three  glasses 
on  the  cabin  table.  Captain  Williamson  bade  Tom 
and  Jack  be  seated,  and  then  sat  down  himself. 
He  filled  one  of  the  glasses,  and  then  passed  the 
decanter  to  the  others,  bidding  them  to  fill  likewise, 
which  they  did. 

It  may  not  be  out  of  place  here  to  give  you  a 
description  of  Captain  Williamson.  He  was  one 
of  the  skippers  of  the  last  century,  the  like  of 
which  we  rarely,  if  ever,  see  nowadays.  He  was 
part  owner  in  the  craft  that  he  sailed,  and  made  a 
good  thing  of  it.  He  came  of  an  old  Annapolis 
family,  and  was  a  courteous,  kindly,  Christian  gen- 
tleman, though  stiff  and  formal  in  his  manners.  He 
fancied  that  he  looked  like  General  Washington, 
and  it  was  a  weakness  of  his  to  act  and  carry  him- 
self as  nearly  as  he  could  after  the  manner  of  the 
General,  who,  by  the  by,  was  a  distant  relative  or 
connection,  though  by  marriage,  if  I  mistake  not. 
Another  weakness  of  his  was  a  fancy  that  he  would 
have  made  a  great  naval  captain  if  he  had  only  had 
the  opportunity. 

As  it  was,  he  had  never  smelt  fighting  powder  in 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  161 

all  his  life ;  nor  was  he  likely  to  do  so,  for,  though 
no  coward,  he  was  cautious  and  careful  in  the 
extreme,  and  would  never  willingly  have  entered 
into  action,  even  with  a  fighting  bum-boat,  He 
always  wore  a  cocked  hat,  like  an  admiral,  knee- 
breeches,  buckles  and  pumps,  and  when  he  was 
standing  still  rested  mainly  on  one  foot,  with  his 
hands  clasped  behind  him  and  the  knee  of  the 
other  leg  bent,  just  as  General  Washington  always 
stands  in  the  pictures  that  one  sees  of  him. 

So  he  sat  now,  with  one  knee  crossed  over  the 
other,  very  stiff  and  straight,  just  as  General  Wash- 
ington might  have  sat  if  he  had  been  sitting  in  the 
cabin. 

"  May  I  ask  which  of  you  is  the  first  mate  ? " 
said  he. 

"  I'm  the  first  mate,  sir,"  said  Jack. 

"Mr.  Baldwin,  I  believe?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Was  it  you,  sir,  who  conceived  the  extremely 
ingenious  and  clever  plan  of  sending  bags  or  blad- 
ders of  porpoise  hide  afloat,  with  your  condition 
and  location  inclosed  within  them  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Jack,  "  it  was  my  mate  here," 
and  he  chucked  his  thumb  toward  Tom. 

"  It  was  a  very  clever  thought — very  clever  in- 
deed," said  Captain  Williamson,  turning  to  Tom. 
"  How  did  you  get  that  black  substance  with  which 
it  was  covered?" 

"  We  mixed  the  porpoise  blubber  with  soot," 
said  Tom. 

zi 


1 62  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

The  captain  nodded  his  head.  "  Very  clever 
indeed,"  said  he  again,  "  it  was  very  efficacious,  for 
the  bladder  was  quite  covered  with  the  substance 
when  we  picked  it  up — so  much  so,  indeed,  that  my 
fingers  were  thoroughly  befouled  in  the  handling 
of  it.  And  was  it  you,  also,  who  made  the  map  of 
the  island?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Tom  again. 

Then  Captain  Williamson  nodded  his  head  once 
more,  and  said  for  the  third  time  :  "  Very  clever — 
very  clever,  indeed."  Then  he  told  Tom  that  the 
Baltimore  had  picked  up  the  bladder  off  the  Florida 
coast.  "It  was,"  said  he,  "but  fifty  miles  out  of 
my  course  to  come  to  this  island,  for  I  am  bound 
for  New  York  harbor.  I  recognized  the  situation 
of  the  island  from  the  plan  of  it  found  enclosed  in 
the  bladder." 

"  It  was  a  kind  and  Christian  act  on  your  part," 
said  Tom.  "  Very  few  captains  would  have  run 
fifty  miles  out  of  their  course  to  pick  up  two  poor 
souls,  'specially  while  so  many  British  cruisers  are 
about.  I  and  my  mate — " 

Here  he  stopped,  for  a  great  lump  rose  in  his 
throat  until  it  seemed  to  choke  him. 

"Tut!  tut!  tut!  tut  r*  said  Captain  Williamson, 
holding  up  his  hand  deprecatingly ;  "  it  was  no 
more  than  one  Christian  man  ought  to  do  for 
another.  Say  no  more  of  that,  I  beg  of  you. 
There  are  many  questions  that  I  wish  to  ask  of  you 
in  reference  to  the  loss  of  the  Nancy  Hazlewood, 
but  I  will  not  trouble  you  with  questions  just  at 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  163 

this  season.  I  will  beg  of  you  to  give  such  an 
account,  however,  after  you  are  refreshed  with 
clean  linen  and  clothes,  and  what  not." 

As  Captain  Williamson  paused  for  a  moment 
Tom  looked  at  Jack,  and  saw  that  he  fidgeted  rest- 
lessly in  his  chair  .when  the  other  spoke  of  the 
Nancy  Hazlcwood.  There  was  a  great  deal  about 
her  loss  that  would  be  very  difficult  and  very  bitter 
to  tell. 

"  In  the  meantime,"  said  Captain  Williamson, 
resuming  his  speech,  "  you  need  have  no  anxiety 
about  anything  that  you  may  desire  to  fetch  away 
from  the  island  with  you,  for  I  have  sent  a  boat 
ashore  under  my  second  mate,  Mr.  Bright.  He 
will  see  that  everything  is  brought  safely  away 
from  your  hut  or  cabin.  So,  as  I  said,  you  need 
have  no  anxiety  on  that  score." 

At  these  words  Jack  and  Tom  sprung  to  their 
feet,  for  the  thought  struck  them  both  at  once  that 
their  money  would  be  found,  and  that  in  an  hour's 
time  every  man  aboard  of  the  ship  would  not  only 
know  that  the  two  castaways  had  been  digging  for 
treasure,  but  would  also  know  where  that  treasure 
had  been  found.  It  would  be  no  secret  then,  but 
would  be  known  to  all,  and  there  was  no  telling 
what  such  knowledge  might  bring  with  it.  It  was 
a  thing  that  no  one  but  the  captain  or  the  chief 
officers  of  the  ship  should  be  aware  of  just  at  the 
present  time. 

"  Captain  Williamson,"  cried  Jack,  "  for  the  love 
of  heaven,  don't  let  that  boat  go  ashore  just  yet! 


1 64  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

Tom,  you  speak  to  him,  you're  blessed  with  the 
gift  of  talk ;  speak  to  him,  and  tell  him  about  the 
mon — ,  about  you  know  what." 

"Yes,  captain,"  cried  Tom,  "for  heaven's  sake 
don't  let  the  boat  go  ashore  till  we  tell  you  some- 
thing first" 

Captain  Williamson  had  also  risen  to  his  feet. 
He  seemed  to  be  very  much  amazed  at  their  words. 
"  Why  not  ?  Why  shouldn't  the  boat  go  ashore  ?  " 
said  he.  "  What  does  all  this  mean  ?  " 

"  Has  the  boat  left  the  ship  yet,  captain  ?  "  said 
Tom. 

"  Yes  ;  the  boat  has  left  the  ship ;  but  what  does 
all  this  mean,  I  say  ?  " 

"  Then,  stop  it— call  it  back !  "  cried  Tom. 

Jack  was  walking  up  and  down,  patting  his 
clenched  fist  in  his  excitement.  "I'll  tell  you  what 
it  means,"  he  blurted  out ;  "  it  means  that  there's 
nigh  to  nine  thousand  dollars  in  silver  money  in 
that  hut,  and  that  the  crew  of  the  boat  mustn't  find 
it  there." 

"  Nine  thousand  dollars !  "  repeated  Captain  Wil- 
liamson ;  and  then  he  stopped  and  stood  glaring  at 
the  two  men  as  though  he  doubted  he  had  heard 
aright. 

"  Yes,"  said  Jack,  thumping  his  fist  down  on  the 
table,  "  nine  thousand  dollars,  and  if  you  let  that 
boat's  crew  find  it,  and  find  where  it  came  from, 
you'll  be  chucking  a  fortune  from  your  own  hands 
into  their  pockets.  For  heaven's  sake,  stop  the 
boat — call  it  back ! " 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  1 6$ 

Then  Captain  Williamson  stepped  quickly  to  the 
door  and  flung  it  open.  "  Mr.  Winterbury !"  cried 
he,  sharply. 

"Aye,  aye,  sir!" 

"  Call  the  cutter  back  ! " 

"  Call  the—" 

"Call  the  cutter  back!" 

"Aye,  aye,  sir!" 

There  was  a  pause,  and  then  Tom  and  Jack 
heard  the  bellow  of  the  mate's  voice  in  the  trumpet : 

"  Cutter  ahoy-y-y-y  ! " 

Captain  Williamson  stood  with  his  head  out  of 
the  cabin  door,  and  presently  they  heard  him  ask : 

"  Do  they  hear  you,  sir?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Then  signal  them  back." 

"  Aye,  aye,  sir  ! " 

Then  Captain  Williamson  drew  in  his  head,  shut- 
ting the  door  carefully,  and  resumed  his  seat.  He 
passed  his  hand  over  his  face,  and  crossed  his 
knees,  and  then  put  on  his  Washingtonian  air 
again.  I  think  that  he  was  half  ashamed  of  the 
excitement  that  had  driven  him  out  of  it  a  moment 
before. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Granger,"  said  he,  "  since  Mr.  Baldwin 
has  called  upon  you  to  be  the  spokesman,  will  you 
tell  me  what  all  this  means?" 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  I  will,"  said  Tom.  "  Of  course,  you 
will  have  to  know  everything,  after  what  has 
passed ;  but  I  should  have  told  you  of  it  anyhow, 
for  I  put  much  trust  in  your  honor," 


1 66  WITHIN  THE   CAPES. 

"  You  are  perfectly  right  to  do  so,"  said  Captain 
Williamson.  "  Sit  down,  if  you  please." 

Then  the  two  sat  down  again,  and  Tom  began 
his  story.  Captain  Williamson  did  not  say  a  word 
to  interrupt  him,  but  every  now  and  then  he  looked 
sharply  from  Tom  to  Jack,  and  from  Jack  back 
again  to  Tom.  He  sat  with  his  elbows  on  the 
arms  of  his  chair,  and  the  tips  of  his  fingers  just 
touching  each  other ;  but  he  did  not  move  a  muscle, 
excepting  as  he  turned  his  head  when  he  looked 
first  at  one,  and  then  at  the  other. 

At  last  Tom  had  made  an  end  of  the  story.  Cap- 
tain Williamson  did  not  move  for  a  second  or  two, 
but  he  sat  just  as  he  had  been  doing  all  along.  Then 
he  drew  a  deep  breath,  and  arose  from  his  chair.  He 
took  a  turn  or  two  up  and  down  the  cabin  ;  then  he 
stopped  suddenly  in  front  of  Tom  and  Jack. 

"  This  is  an  extraordinary — a  most  extraordinary 
tale,"  said  he.  "  I  never  heard  the  like  in  all  my 
life.  It's  like  a  tale  in  a  romance,  and  I  can 
scarcely  believe  that  I  have  heard  aright.  That 
you  should  find  a  treasure  on  this — " 

Here  he  stopped  abruptly  and  looked  sharply 
from  one  to  the  other.  "  Surely,  there  can  be 
nothing  false  and  underhand  in  all  this,"  he  said. 

"  I  suppose  the  story  does  sound  strange  to  you," 
said  Tom.  "  I  reckon  that  it's  because  we're  so 
used  to  it  that  it  don't  seem  as  though  it  ought  to 
be  strange.  It's  the  truth,  though,  captain.  There 
wouldn't  be  any  use  in  our  telling  you  a  lie,  for 
you  can  easily  prove  the  truth  of  it  for  yourself." 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  167 

"  True,  true,"  said  he,  and  then  he  began  walking 
up  and  down  the  cabin  again.  "  What  do  you 
intend  to  do  about  the  matter  now?"  said  he, 
stopping  for  a  moment,  and  turning  to  the  others. 

Tom  and  Jack  looked  at  one  another. 

"  I'll  leave  the  whole  thing  to  you,  Tom,"  said 
Jack.  "  It  was  you  who  found  the  money — at 
least,  it  was  you  that  found  out  where  it  was.  I 
suppose  it  ought  all  to  belong  to  you,  by  rights." 

"  That's  all  nonsense,  Jack,"  said  Tom.  "  It  was 
you  who  found  it  first;  but  even  if  you  hadn't, 
we're  mates,  and  it's  share  and  share  alike  between 
us." 

"Well,  I  reckon  that's  no  more  than  fair,"  said 
Jack,  "  but  it  don't  matter  in  this  case ;  I'll  leave 
the  whole  thing  to  you." 

Tom  sat  lost  in  thought  for  a  few  moments.  At 
last  he  spoke :  "  I'd  make  this  proposal,"  said  he ; 
"  that  we  put  the  whole  thing  in  the  hands  of 
Captain  Williamson,  leaving  him  to  do  what  he 
thinks  best  in  the  matter,  only  having  him  guaran- 
tee to  share  all  gains  that  shall  come  from  it  with 
us.  It  seems  to  me  that  we  certainly  owe  as  much 
as  this  to  him,  and  that  it's  the  least  that  we  can  do. 
What  do  you  think,  Jack  ?" 

Jack  hesitated  for  a  moment.  "  Well,"  said  he, 
"  I  suppose  that  it's  no  more  than  what's  right." 

"  I  think  not,"  said  Tom.  "  What  do  you  say 
about  it,  captain  ?  " 

"  It's  for  you  to  say,"  said  Captain  Williamson. 
"  Of  course,  I'll  be  glad  to  go  into  the  matter  with 


168  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

you,  but  I  wish  you  to  understand  that  I  don't 
want  you  to  feel  that  any  money  is  due  me  because 
I  ran  a  few  miles  out  of  my  course  to  pick  you  up. 
That  was  no  more  than  one  man  could  be  expected 
to  do  for  another.  If  I  come  into  this,  it  must  be 
on  purely  business  grounds,  and  not  as  a  gift  of 
gratitude  from  you." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Tom.  "  What  do  you  think 
would  be  fair  terms  between  us  ?" 

"  If  you  have  no  objections,  I  would  like  to  talk 
with  my  first  mate  about  it,"  said  Captain  William- 
son. 

Jack  and  Tom  looked  at  one  another  again. 

"  Do  you  think  that  there's  any  special  need  of 
his  knowing  about  it  ? "  said  Jack.  "  It  seems  to 
me  that  we're  taking  in  a  good  many.  It's  all 
right  that  you  should  share  with  us,  seeing  that 
you've  treated  us  in  such  a  handsome  manner.  I 
acknowledge  that  very  few  captains  would  have 
sailed  out  of  their  course  in  times  of  war  for  the 
sake  of  picking  up  a  couple  of  poor,  shipwrecked 
devils,  with  nothing  to  be  gained  by  it,  and,  apart 
from  the  business  part  of  it,  I  think  likely  that  we 
owe  that  much  to  you ;  but  I  don't  see  why  the 
mate  should  be  taken  in,  too." 

"  I  don't  know  that  he  will  expect  to  be  *  taken 
in,'"  said  Captain  Williamson,  somewhat  coldly, 
"  but  I  think  that  you'll  find  his  advice  in  the  matter 
will  be  of  help  to  you.  You  may  rely  upon  it  that 
the  secret  will  be  as  safe  with  him  as  it  will  be  with 
me." 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  169 

"All  right,"  said  Jack;  "if  Tom  don't  care,  I 
don't,  either." 

So  Mr.  Winterbury  was  called  into  the  cabin,  and 
Tom  told  the  story  of  the  finding  of  the  treasure 
all  over  again. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  it,  Mr.  Winterbury?  "  said 
Captain  Williamson,  when  Tom  had  ended. 

"  I  think  it's  the  most  extraordinary  yarn  that 
ever  I  heard  in  all  my  life." 

"  Exactly  my  thought.  And  now,  if  Mr.  Baldwin 
and  Mr.  Granger  will  excuse  us  for  a  moment  or  two, 
I  would  like  to  have  a  few  words  with  you  outside." 

Then  they  went  out,  and  Jack  and  Tom  were  left 
alone. 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  you  did  rather  too  much, 
Tom,"  said  Jack. 

"  I  think  it  was  as  little  as  we  could  do,"  said 
Tom.  "They've  sailed  fifty  miles  out  of  their 
course  to  pick  us  up,  without  expecting  so  much  as 
a  red  cent  for  it,  so  I  think  it  was  as  little  as  we 
could  do." 

"Oh,  all  right;  I'm  not  finding  fault,"  said  Jack. 
"  I  don't  mean  to  find  any  fault  at  all ;  I  was  only 
giving  you  my  notion  about  it.  I'm  satisfied." 

But  it  was  very  plain,  from  the  way  in  which 
he  spoke,  that  he  was  not  satisfied. 

In  a  little  while  Captain  Williamson  and  Mr. 
Winterbury  came  into  the  cabin  again.  Then  the 
captain  asked  a  number  of  questions  about  the 
wreck — how  much  of  it  they  had  already  uncovered, 
etc.,  etc. 


1 70  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

"  We've  uncovered  a  little  less  than  one  quarter 
of  it,  I  should  judge,"  said  Tom,  looking  to  Jack 
for  confirmation. 

Jack  nodded  his  head. 

Then  Captain  Williamson  told  them  what  his 
idea  was  about  it.  That  he  did  not  think  that  the 
wreck  was  that  of  a  treasure  ship,  as  they  had  not 
found  money  enough  in  it  for  that ;  that  he  had  no 
doubt  that  the  vessel  had  been  carrying  newly- 
minted  money  to  some  one  of  the  Spanish  provinces 
when  she  had  been  cast  on  the  beach — probably 
in  a  south-easterly  gale.  From  what  they  had 
already  found,  he  thought  that  there  might  have 
been  from  forty  to  fifty  thousand  dollars  in  her  all 
together,  and  that  there  might  be  from  thirty  to 
forty  thousand  dollars  yet  left  under  the  sand.  He 
said  that  he  would  undertake  to  find  the  rest  of  the 
money,  and  that  he  would  send  or  take  out  a  ship 
stocked  with  provisions  for  that  purpose,  the  expense 
of  which  he  would  bear  himself.  That  all  wages 
and  expenses  above  that  should  be  paid  out  of  the 
money  that  they  should  find,  and  that  the  net  gain 
should  be  shared  equally  between  them,  each  taking 
a  third.  "Or,"  said  he,  in  conclusion,  " I  will  buy 
either  or  both  of  your  interests  out,  accepting  all  the 
risks  myself.  I  will  give  you  each  six  thousand  dol- 
lars for  your  share  in  the  venture,  for  which  I  offer  a 
note  payable  at  ninety  days,  with  safe  indorsement." 
He  then  said  that  he  would  give  them  a  week  to 
think  over  the  offer  he  had  made,  and  would  be  glad 
to  hear  anything  that  they  might  have  to  propose. 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  I/ 1 

I  will  say  here,  that  at  the  end  of  a  week  they 
had  made  up  their  minds  to  run  their  chances  of 
what  might  be  found,  and  that  it  paid  them  to  do  so. 

A  little  later  in  the  morning  Captain  Williamson 
and  Mr.  Winterbury  and  Jack  and  Tom  went  ashore 
in  the  captain's  gig.  They  left  the  gig  and  the  crew 
of  it  a  little  distance  up  the  beach,  while  they  four 
walked  down  to  the  hut,  Tom  and  Jack  carrying  a 
small  sea-chest  between  them,  in  which  to  store  the 
money  that  was  hidden  under  a  pile  of  brush-wood 
in  the  cabin.  Then  they  went  out  on  the  sand-spit 
to  inspect  the  wreck,  and  Captain  Williamson 
renewed  the  offer  that  he  had  made  in  the  cabin  of 
the  Baltimore,  and  said  again  that  they  might  take 
a  week  to  think  it  over. 

Then  they  tore  down  the  breakwater  that  Tom 
and  Jack  had  built,  so  that  the  sea  might  make  in 
during  the  next  storm,  and  so  hide  the  work  that 
they  had  done.  After  this  they  went  back  to  the 
gig,  and  Captain  Williamson  sent  four  of  the  men 
to  the  hut  for  the  chest  of  money. 

So,  at  last,  their  life  upon  the  island  came  to  an 
end. 

They  had  a  safe  and  quick  journey  home,  entering 
Sandy  Hook  on  the  2Oth  of  the  month.  They 
were  quarantined  for  a  couple  of  days  through  some 
delay,  and  landed  in  New  York  on  the  23d. 

During  the  voyage  home,  Jack  gave  Captain 
Williamson  an  account  of  the  loss  of  the  Hazle- 
wood.  The  captain  looked  very  serious  over  it;  he 
did  not  say  anything,  but  he  shook  his  head.  He 


I72  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

evidently  thought  that  it  was  a  very  shady  piece  of 
business. 

The  day  after  they  landed  in  New  York,  Jack 
and  Tom  took  stage  to  Philadelphia,  which  they 
reached  a  little  after  noon  of  the  26th. 

You  all  know  what  followed.  The  Board  of 
Trade  appointed  a  committee  to  inquire  into  the 
circumstances  of  the  loss  of  the  ship  Nancy  Hazle- 
wood.  Tom  did  not  write  a  letter  home,  because 
he  expected  that  every  day  would  be  his  last  in 
town;  but  the  investigation  dragged  along  until 
more  than  a  week  had  been  consumed  by  the 
committee. 

Both  Tom  and  Jack  were  blamed,  because  that 
they  had  come  off  with  their  lives,  while  the  captain 
and  most  of  the  crew  had  gone  down  in  the  ship. 
Mr.  Blakie,  of  the  firm  of  Blakie  &  Howard,  said 
some  particularly  bitter  and  cutting  things,  which 
might  have  stung  Tom  very  sharply  if  he  had  not 
felt  that,  by  rights,  there  was  not  much  blame  rest- 
ing upon  him. 

Mr.  Blakie's  words  were  meant  as  much  for  him 
as  they  were  for  Jack,  for  it  was  not  known  that 
Tom  had  been  taken  off  the  vessel  against  his  will. 
Jack  did  not  breathe  a  word  of  this,  and  Tom  was 
too  proud  to  seem  to  want  to  slip  from  under  the 
blame,  and  leave  Jack  to  bear  it  all.  Jack  did  not 
say  in  so  many  words  that  Tom  had  joined  him  in 
deserting  the  ship  in  the  cutter,  but  what  he  did  say 
would  have  led  any  reasonable  man  to  infer  as 
much.  It  is  quite  natural  that  a  man  should  dislike 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  173 

to  carry  all  of  a  load  of  blame  on  his  own  shoulders, 
and  there  is  a  great  satisfaction  in  knowing  that 
others  share  the  burden;  at  the  same  time,  it  would 
have  been  a  good  thing  for  Tom,  if  Jack  had  spoken 
out  and  told  the  whole  truth,  for,  as  it  turned  out, 
it  weighed  in  the  balance  against  him  when  every 
scruple  told 

But  at  last  the  committee  dismissed  Tom,  and  he 
was  free  to  go ;  little  he  cared  then  of  their  favor- 
able or  unfavorable  opinion,  for  the  time  had  come 
when  he  might  go  home. 

There  was  just  time  to  catch  the  morning  stage 
for  Eastcaster,  and  in  half  an  hour  he  was  rumbling 
out  of  Philadelphia,  mounted,  pipe  in  mouth,  on 
the  outside  of  the  Union  stage,  with  his  boxes  and 
bundles  safely  stowed  away  in  the  boot. 


PART   III 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

IT  seemed  to  Tom,  now  that  he  was  fairly  on  the 
homeward  road,  as  though  the  wheels  of  the 
stage  were  weighted  with  lead,  and  as  though  the 
horses  that  dragged  it  crawled  at  a  snail's  pace,  for 
his  hopes  and  his  longing  for  home  outstripped  a 
thousand  fold  the  rate  of  his  traveling. 

To  P.,  18  M. — 14  M.  to  E. ;  to  P.,  19  M. — 13  M. 
to  E. ;  to  P.,  20  M.— 12  M.  to  E.  So  passed  the 
milestones  in  succession,  and  Tom  counted  every 
one  as  they  rumbled  by  it.  But  at  last  it  was  2  M. 
to  E.,  and  a  steep  hill  lay  in  front  of  them ;  it  was 
the  last  hill  between  him  and  home. 

Tom  had  taken  the  Union  line  of  stages,  which 
did  not,  like  the  Enterprise  line,  run  on  to  Downey- 
ville,  but  stopped  at  Eastcaster.  The  driver  of 
"  No.  3  "  was  a  stranger  to  Tom ;  old  Willy  Wilkes 
had  heretofore  driven  the  stage  as  long  as  he  could 
remember. 

"Where's  old  Willy  Wilkes?"  said  Tom,  soon 
after  they  had  left  Philadelphia. 

The  strange  driver  let  fly  an  amber  stream  of 
tobacco  juice  over  the  side  of  the  coach,  and  an- 
swered, briefly,  "  Dead." 

12  177 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

"  Dead ! " 

"  Ya-as.  Caught  cold  last  spring  and  died  in 
June ;  "  then,  with  some  curiosity,  "  Did  you  know 
him?" 

"  Yes,  I  knew  him,"  said  Tom,  briefly.  Here  was 
the  first  change,  and  it  threw  a  cloud  over  him ; 
was  he  to  find  other  changes  as  great  ?  He  had 
only  been  gone  a  year  and  a  half,  but  it  seemed  to 
him  as  though  it  might  have  been  ten  years.  There 
was  a  pause  of  a  few  minutes,  and  the  new  driver  of 
"  No.  3 "  looked  furtively  at  Tom  from  out  the 
corners  of  his  eyes.  Tom  had  not  cut  off  his  beard, 
and  his  hair  had  turned  iron  grey  in  the  last  five 
months ;  he  knew  that  he  was  greatly  changed. 

It  was  Tom's  beard  that  seemed  to  catch  the 
driver's  eye,  for  folks  went  clean-shaven  in  those 
days. 

"  I  allow  you're  from  foreign  parts,"  said  he,  at 
last 

"  Yes ;  I'm  from  foreign  parts,"  said  Tom,  shortly. 
Nothing  more  was  said  between  them  after  this. 
Tom  sat  buried  in  thoughts  and  the  driver  s-at  chew- 
ing vigorously  at  his  quid  of  tobacco,  looking  stead- 
fastly over  the  leader's  ears  the  whiles. 

So  they  began  the  slow  climbing  of  the  last 
hill ;  they  reached  the  top  of  the  rise,  and  then 
the  country  lay  spread  out  before  them,  hill  and 
valley,  field,  meadow-land  and  wood,  all  brown 
and  golden  in  the  mellow  autumn  sunlight.  The 
houses  clustered  more  thickly  about  the  village,  and 
over  the  rusting  foliage  peeped  the  white  spire  of 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

St.  James'  Church.  A  lump  arose  in  Tom's  throat 
at  the  sight  of  the  dear  old  place,  and  his  eyeballs 
felt  hot  and  dry.  Then  a  keen  and  sudden  thrill 
shot  through  him,  for,  away  beyond  the  village  and 
over  to  the  right,  he  could  see  the  yellow  sunlight 
shining  on  the  white  walls  of  a  house.  Close  to  it 
stood  an  old  stone  mill  and  back  of  it  was  an  apple 
orchard.  Then  Tom  felt,  indeed,  that  his  darling 
was  near  to  him. 

The  driver  gathered  up  his  reins.  "  Click ! " 
said  he,  and  the  coach  dashed  down  the  hill,  and 
house  and  mill  were  hidden  from  Tom's  sight. 
So  they  reached  the  level  road  and  went  rumbling 
along  it ;  they  turned  the  corner  and  Eastcaster  was 
before  them.  The  scattered  houses  grew  thicker 
and  thicker ;  they  turned  another  corner  sharply 
and  were  in  Market  street. 

Everything  was  the  same  as  when  Tom  had  last 
seen  them  :  trees,  houses,  stores,  people,  everything. 
Shipwreck,  death,  loneliness  and  misery  had  been 
around  him  for  a  year  and  a  half,  and  yet  Eastcaster 
was  the  same  as  though  he  had  not  come  back  to 
it  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death.  It 
seemed  strange  to  him  that  it  should  be  so ;  it  was 
as  though  he  had  left  everything  but  yesterday. 
Here  was  Pepperill's  store,  there  the  blacksmith 
shop.  They  passed  Parkinson's  tobacco  store;  a 
number  of  men  were  sitting  on  chairs  around  the 
door  in  the  sunshine.  They  looked  up  at  the 
stage  with  dull  interest.  Tom  knew  them  all,  but 
not  one  of  them  recognized  him.  A  little  further 


180  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

along,  on  the  opposite  sick  of  the  street,  was  Mr. 
Moor's  office.  As  they  rumbled  by  it,  Tom  saw 
that  two  men  were  standing  at  the  window  looking 
absently  into  the  street ;  one  of  them  was  Mr.  Moor, 
the  other  was  Isaac  Naylor.  A  thrill  darted  through 
him  when  he  saw  Isaac  Naylor ;  it  was  strange 
that  the  sight  of  his  former  rival  should  seem  to 
bring  Patty  so  near  to  him.  The  two  men  looked 
at  the  stage  as  it  passed,  but  they  saw  nothing,  for 
their  minds  were  evidently  fixed  upon  other  things. 
Mr.  Moor  was  talking,  looking  anxious  and  wor- 
ried ;  Isaac  Naylor  was  listening,  cold  and  impas- 
sive. 

Tom  noticed  this  in  the  moment  that  he  was 
passing. 

Then  the  stage  stopped,  for  it  was  in  front  of  the 
Crown  and  Angel,  and  Black  Jim — the  identical 
Black  Jim  that  Tom  had  left  a  year  and  a  half 
ago,  who  was  standing  out  in  the  road,  waiting  the 
coming  of  the  stage — loosened  the  straps  at  the 
horses'  necks.  The  passengers  tumbled  out  from 
the  inside,  and  Tom  got  down  from  the  box,  and 
stood  looking  about  him.  There  were  a  group  of 
loungers  sitting  along  the  tavern  porch  in  the 
warm  sunlight;  their  feet  on  the  railing,  and  their 
chairs  tilted  back.  Tom  knew  nearly  all  of  them, 
but  they  did  not  recognize  him; — he  never  fully 
realized  till  then,  how  changed  he  was  in  his 
appearance.  Even  Mrs.  Bond,  the  landlady,  who 
was  standing  at  the  door  with  her  hands  under  Ijer 
apron,  did  not  know  him. 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  181 

Some  one  came  walking  along  the  street  and 
stopped,  for  a  moment,  to  look  at  the  stage — it  was 
Will  Gaines.  "  He'll  know  me,  at  least,"  said  Tom, 
to  himself,  but  he  did  not;  he  looked  at  Tom,  but 
there  was  no  other  light  than  that  of  curiosity  in 
his  eyes. 

"Will,"  said  he,  at  last;  "Will  Gaines,  don't  you 
know  me  ?" 

Then  sudden  recognition  flashed  into  Will's  face. 
He  stood  for  a  moment  as  though  bereft  of  speech ; 
then  he  strode  forward,  and  clutched  Tom  by  the 
shoulder. 

"  My  God !  Tom  Granger;  is  it — is  it  you  ?  They 
said  you  were  dead  !  I —  I — "  Then  he  stopped, 
and  Tom  felt  his  hands  trembling  as  they  lay  on 
his  shoulders. 

"Dead !"  said  Tom,  after  a  moment  of  silence. 

"Yes,  Tom;  dead." 

"  But  I'm  not  dead,"  said  Tom,  smiling,  and  try- 
ing to  shake  off  the  feeling  that  was  creeping  over 
him. 

"Don't!  Don't  talk  that  way,  Tom,"  said  Will; 
"don't  make  so  light  of  it.  Your  father  had  a 
letter  from  Lovejoy  &  Co.,  of  Philadelphia.  It  was 
nearly  a  year  ago,  now;  the  letter  said  that  your 
ship  had  been  lost,  no  one  knew  how  or  where. 
Tom," — here  he  stopped  abruptly — "  Come  into  the 
tavern,  Tom,"  said  he. 

As  they  went  up  the  tavern  steps  and  entered  the 
door,  the  loungers  stared  at  them  with  wide-opened 
eyes.  They  did  not  recognize  him]  but  a  stranger 


1 82  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

was  an  object  of  interest  in  the  town  in  those  days. 
Will  hurried  him  into  the  house,  and  Mrs.  Bond 
showed  them  into  the  parlor.  There  was  some- 
thing so  odd  in  Will's  manner,  that  the  feeling  of 
fear  grew  heavier  and  heavier  on  Tom's  spirit — the 
first  words  that  he  spoke,  were: 

"Will,  how's  Patty?" 

Will  did  not  answer  immediately,  and  Tom, 
glancing  quickly  up,  saw  that  he  was  looking 
earnestly  at  him. 

There  was  a  moment  of  dead  silence,  through 
which  sounded  the  clicking  of  the  dishes  being 
washed  in  the  out  kitchen  of  the  tavern. 

"Will,  how's  Patty?"  said  Tom,  again,  and  he 
himself  noticed  what  a  sharp  ring  there  was  in  his 
voice.  "  Why  don't  you  speak  ?  What's  the 
matter?  How's  Patty?" 

"  Patty  ?" 

"Yes;  Patty." 

"Patty?     Oh  !  Patty's  all  right." 

Tom  looked  at  him  very  keenly.  His  heart  was 
crumbling  within  him,  though  he  could  not  tell 
why.  He  felt  faint  and  ill,  and  leaned  heavily  on 
the  table  near  him.  He  looked  out  of  the  window, 
watching  Black  Jim  watering  the  stage  horses  at 
the  trough  in  the  stable-yard;  then,  without  looking 
back  at  Will,  he  steadied  himself  for  the  next  ques- 
tion. 

"  I'm  no  coward,  Will,"  said  he ;  "  you  see  I've 
gone  through,  enough  this  year  to  turn  my  hair 
grey,  and  I'm  no  coward  now,  if  I  ever  was  before. 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  I §3 

I  want  you  to  tell  me  the  truth ;  is — is  Patty 
dead  ?  " 

"  Dead !  No ;  of  course  she  isn't  dead.  She 
was  very  much  broken  down  when  she  heard  of  the 
loss  of  the  ship  that  you  sailed  in;  but  she's  all 
right  now, — well  and  hearty." 

"  And  she's  not  sick — nothing  the  matter  with 
her?" 

"  Nothing." 

Tom  put  his  hand  to  his  forehead,  for  things  were 
swimming  around  him  ;  then  he  gave  a  short  laugh, 
but  there  was  a  quaver  in  it.  "  You  frightened  me 
pretty  badly,  Will,"  said  he;  "I  don't  deny  that  I 
felt  as  though  you  were  dragging  my  heart  out  by 
the  roots." 

"  See  here,  Tom,  you  don't  look  well,"  said  Will ; 
"  let  me  call  for  a  glass  of  brandy  for  you." 

"  I  don't  want  any  brandy ;  I  wouldn't  mind 
having  a  drop  of  water,  though."  There  was  a 
pitcher  standing  on  the  table  beside  him  ;  he  tilted 
it  and  looked  into  it  and  saw  that  there  was  water 
in  it ;  then  he  raised  it  to  his  lips  and  took  a  deep 
draught  of  it.  "  What  did  you  scare  me  so  for  ?  " 
he  said,  half  angrily,  turning  on  Will  again. 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  scare  you,  Tom,"  said  the 
other;  then  he  hesitated  for  a  moment  or  two. 
"  Look  here,  Tom,"  said  he,  "you'd  better  go  home; 
your  mother  has  something  to  tell  you.  Your 
father  was  in  town  not  half  an  hour  ago  ;  I  saw  him 
at  Bradley's  blacksmith  shop.  I  wish  to  heavens 
you'd  been  a  little  sooner ;  you  might  have  ridden 


1 84  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

out  home  with  him.     If  you'll  wait  a  bit,  I'll  slip 
over  and  borrow  uncle's  gig  and  drive  you  home." 

"  I  don't  want  to  wait ;  I'll  walk,"  said  Tom. 
Then,  "  Look  here,  Will ;  what  are  you  so  anxious 
for  me  to  go  straight  home  for?" 

"What  makes  you  think  that  I'm  anxious?" 

"  You  ain't  answering  my  question,  Will  Gaines." 

"  I  have  no  reason  for  wanting  you  to  go  straight 
home,  except  that  I  suppose  your  folks'll  want  to 
see  you." 

"  Is  that  all  ?  "  said  Tom,  looking  sharply  at  the 
other. 

"Yes." 

Tom  looked  at  him  a  little  while  longer,  and 
then  he  turned  away.  He  did  not  believe  Will,  but 
he  saw  that  nothing  more  was  to  be  gotten  out  of 
him. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,"  said  Will,  presently, 
"  you  walk  on  out  home,  and  I'll  go  over  and  get 
uncle's  gig  and  drive  after  you,  and  pick  you  up. 
It  won't  do  to  run  in  on  your  people  without  their 
knowing  of  your  coming.  Your  mother  ought  to 
know  of  it  before  she  sees  you." 

This  was  all  very  true,  though  Tom  felt  that 
Will's  plan  was  laid  in  order  to  secure  his  going 
home  without  stopping.  He  said  nothing  of  his 
thoughts,  however,  but  left  the  tavern,  and  started 
for  home. 

He  walked  briskly  along  the  dusky  turnpike 
road,  but  there  was  a  dull  feeling  of  unhappiness 
resting  upon  his  heart,  for  Will's  words,  and  looks, 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  185 

and  tones,  all  told  him  that  there  was  something 
wrong.  So  he  came  at  last  to  the  foot  of  the  hill, 
where  the  turnpike  road  crosses  Stony-Brook  by 
the  old  county  bridge.  On  the  other  side  of  the 
stream  is  a  by-road  that  leads  off  from  the  highway 
and  runs  through  the  woods.  Tom  knew  it  well, 
for  it  was  the  old  mill  road,  and  led  to  Elihu  Pen- 
rose's  house.  Many  a  time  had  he  walked  it,  and 
well  he  knew  every  bend  and  turn  of  it.  The  last 
time  he  had  passed  along  it  his  heart  had  beaten 
high  with  love,  and  hope,  and  high  resolve,  albeit 
there  was  the  bitterness  of  a  coming  parting  lurking 
at  the  bottom  of  it.  When  he  came  to  the  spot 
where  the  mill  road  opens  on  the  pike  he  stood 
still,  and,  as  he  stood,  all  the  fear  that  had  rested 
upon  him  since  his  homecoming  seemed  to  gather 
and  intensify  into  a  dark  and  nameless  dread. 
What  had  happened  ?  What  could  it  all  mean  ? 

As  his  fears  grew  stronger  his  love  waxed 
stronger  with  them.  He  looked  back  along  the 
turnpike  road — there  was  no  signs  of  Will  Gaines. 
Why  should  he  go  home,  and  not  see  his  own  dear 
love  the  first  of  all?  "  God  bless  her!"  said  he, 
with  quivering  lips,  "  I'll  not  go  home  first ;  I'll  go 
and  see  her — my  darling ! " 

So  he  left  the  highway,  and  walked  down  the  road 
through  the  woods.  The  brown  leaves  that  were 
beginning  to  fall  rustled  beneath  his  feet,  and  the 
yellow  patches  of  sunlight  slid  over  his  head  and 
shoulders  as  he  walked  beneath  the  shadow  of  the 
grey  trees  along  the  roadside, 


1 86  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

Then  he  came  out  of  the  woods  and  into  the  open 
sunlight  again.  Now  he  was  on  the  grass-bordered 
foot-path;  on  one  side  of  him  was  the  white  dusty 
road,  and  on  the  other  the  mill-race,  with  the  row 
of  pollard  willows  standing  along  it.  In  front  of 
him  were  the  white  walls  of  the  mill-house,  with 
the  vines  clustered  around  the  end  of  the  old  well- 
remembered  porch,  just  as  he  had  seen  them  last. 
As  he  came  closer  he  saw  a  slender  girl's  figure 
sitting  in  a  high-backed  rocking  chair,  half  hidden 
by  the  net-work  of  the  vines  around  her. 

It  was  Patty. 

Tom's  heart  gave  a  great  leap  within  him ;  then 
stood  still,  and  then  began  to  beat  furiously.  He 
paused  for  a  moment,  gazing  at  her,  his  hand 
resting  on  the  top  of  the  picket  fence  in  front  of 
the  garden ;  then  he  went  forward  again,  but  very 
slowly. 

She  was  sitting  bent  over  some  sewing  that  lay 
spread  out  on  her  lap.  He  stood  for  a  second  or 
two  at  the  green  gate  that  led  up  to  the  porch,  and 
then  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  latch.  At  the  click 
of  the  latch  Patty  raised  her  head,  and  Tom  saw 
that  she,  like  others  that  he  had  met,  did  not  know 
him. 

She  arose  and  stood  watching  him  as  he  came 
slowly  up  the  path ;  his  heart  beating  as  though  it 
would  smother  him. 

He  reached  the  porch; — one  step, — two  steps, — 
three  steps, — and  he  stood  upon  it  and  looked  at 
her. 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  1 87 

Then  he  saw  a  strange  frightened  look  come 
slowly  into  her  eyes ;  she  reached  out  her  hand  and 
laid  it  on  the  top  of  the  rocking  chair  near  to  her. 

"Patty!" 

There  was  a  space  of  dead  silence,  through  which 
Tom  heard  and  noticed  the  sound  of  rushing  water 
and  the  clattering  of  the  mill.  He  did  not  go  a  step 
forward,  for,  as  he  looked  at  her,  there  was  that  in 
her  face  that  chilled  him  through  and  through — it 
was  as  though  a  gulf  had  opened  between  them. 

Her  face  was  as  white  as  death,  and  Tom  saw  the 
ringers  of  the  hand  that  rested  on  the  top  of  the 
rocking  chair,  quivering  nervously.  She  moistened 
her  lips  with  her  tongue,  and  at  last  she  spoke,  but 
in  a  hoarse  whisper,  and  so  low  that  he  could 
hardly  hear  the  matter  of  the  words : 

"Tom— Tom— Oh,  my  God,  Tom  !  is  that  thee?" 

"Yes,  Patty;  it's  me!  I've  come  back  to  thee 
after  a  sorely  long  time  !  Why  don't  thee  speak — 
why  don't  thee  say  something  to  me  ?  What's  the 
matter,  Patty?" 

"Wait — wait — let  me  think!"  said  she,  putting 
her  ringer  to  her  forehead,  "they  all  told  me  that 
thee  was  dead — they  said  that  thee  was  drowned. 
Can  dead  people  come  back  again  ?  " 

"  Patty  !  Patty  ! "  cried  Tom,  "my  own  darling ! 
tell  me;  what  does  this  mean?" 

By  this  time  the  tears  were  running  in  streams 
down  her  pale  cheeks ;  she  made  no  effort  to  wipe 
them  away,  and  did  not  seem  to  know  that  they 
were  flowing. 


1 88  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

"What  is  the  matter?— -Patty,  tell  me,"  said  Tom, 
again. 

"  Oh,  Tom !  I  —  I  —  am  going  to  be  married 
to-morrow ! " 

I  do  not  know  how  long  it  was  that  Tom  stood 
there,  staring  blankly  at  her.  His  throat  was  dry 
and  husky,  and  he  felt  the  muscles  of  his  face 
twitching  every  now  and  then.  It  was  Patty  who 
broke  the  silence. 

"  Tom ! "  she  cried,  in  a  choking  voice ;  "  dear  Tom ! 
don't  look  at  me  in  that  way — thee  breaks  my  heart ! 
Say  something  kind  to  me,  Tom — speak  to  me ! " 

"  Who's  thee  going  to — who's  the  man,  Patty  ?" 
said  Tom,  dully. 

"  Isaac  Naylor.  Oh,  Tom !  I  was  urged  to  it  so 
that  I  couldn't  help  myself.  They  all  told  me  that 
thee  was  dead.  Even  thy  mother  said  thee  was 
drowned ! " 

The  muscles  of  Tom's  throat  had  tightened  until 
he  felt  as  though  he  was  choking.  He  stood  as 
though  uncertain  what  to  do,  for  a  little  while ;  then 
he  said,  "I — I  guess  I'd  better  go — go  home,  now; 
there's  no  use  my  staying  any — any  longer."  Then 
he  turned  away  and  went  stumbling  blindly  down 
the  porch  steps.  He  reached  the  gate  and  fumbled 
for  a  little  while,  hunting  for  the  latch;  then  he 
opened  it  and  went  out  into  the  road.  There  were 
a  few  chickens  dusting  themselves  in  the  path ;  he 
stood  looking  stupidly  at  them  for  a  little  while,  his 
hands  hanging  limp  at  his  sides.  Then  he  turned 
and  walked  heavily  away,  without  looking  back. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

TOM  GRANGER  walked  along,  scarcely  know- 
ing where  he  was  going.  After  a  while  he 
stopped  and  looked  about  him,  and  he  saw  that  he 
was  standing  in  the  road  not  far  from  the  highway. 
Around  him  was  the  silent  woods ;  in  front  of  him 
was  the  sunny  highroad,  about  three  hundred  paces 
farther  on.  He  felt  that  he  could  not  go  out  into  it 
just  now.  He  flung  himself  down  on  the  grassy 
roadside,  burying  his  face  in  his  arms,  giving  him- 
self up  utterly  to  the  despair  that  was  upon  him. 
No  sound  broke  the  silence  of  the  autumn  wood- 
land but  the  gurgle  of  the  rocky  brook  across  the 
road,  the  sudden  rustle  of  the  trees  as  the  breeze 
rushed  through  them  now  and  then,  and  the  rattling 
of  the  dead  leaves  stirred  by  a  breath  of  air. 

Tom  lay  heeding  nothing,  thinking  nothing,  for 
his  heart  was  too  full  of  the  bitterness  of  his  troubles 
to  give  place  to  aught  else.  How  long  he  lay 
there  he  cannot  tell ;  that  which  aroused  him  was 
the  sound  of  footsteps  coming  down  the  road  from 
the  highway.  Then  he  sprang  to  his  feet,  for  he 
could  not  bear  that  any  one  should  find  him  lying 
there.  He  saw  that  it  was  Isaac  Naylor  who  was 

189 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

coming.  Then  Tom  strode  out  into  the  road  and 
stood  directly  in  front  of  him,  so  that  the  other 
could  not  pass  him. 

"  Does  thee  know  who  I  am,  Isaac  Naylor  ? " 
said  he  ;  then,  without  waiting  for  an  answer,  "  I'm 
Tom  Granger ! " 

Maybe  the  Friend's  face  grew  a  trifle  whiter  than 
it  was  used  to  be ;  nevertheless,  he  stood  his  ground, 
though  he  looked  around  and  behind  him,  as 
though  to  see  whether  any  help  was  near  to  him  in 
case  that  the  need  for  it  should  arise.  I  have  no 
doubt  but  that  Tom's  face  was  white,  his  eyes 
bloodshot,  and  that  he  looked  wicked  and  danger- 
ous as  he  stood  in  the  pathway  in  front  of  the 
other.  For  a  while  Isaac  stood  with  bent  head  and 
with  hands  that  trembled  a  little  clasped  in  front  of 
him.  But  presently  he  raised  his  face  and  looked 
calmly  into  Tom's  eyes. 

"  I  heard  in  town  that  thee  had  come  back, 
Thomas,"  said  he,  "  and  I  was  both  glad  and  sorry 
to  hear  it.  I  was  glad  that  the  Good  Father  had 
spared  thy  life  and  sorry  that  thee  had  come  back 
just  now.  I  see  where  thee's  been  and  I  know 
what  thee's  heard.  I'm  sorry — very  sorry." 

Tom  steadied  himself  for  a  moment  before  he 
spoke.  When  he  replied,  it  was  in  a  heavy,  monoto- 
nous voice :  "  Yes ;  I've  been  to  see  Patty  and 
she's  told  me  all.  I  do  believe  it'll  break  her 
heart.  Poor  girl !  poor  girl !  "  Then  he  stopped 
for  a  moment  Hitherto  he  had  spoken  in  a  low, 
dull  voice ;  but  as  he  thought  of  Patty's  grief,  his 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  191 

self-restraint  gave  way  and  he  burst  out  passion- 
ately, "  She's  mine,  Isaac  Naylor — she's  mine !  She 
loves  me  and  no  other  man  in  all  the  world !  By 
the  eternal,  neither  thee  nor  any  other  man  shall 
take  her  from  me !  I'll  let  no  man  take  her  from 
me ;  I  don't  care  who  he  may  be ! " 

He  waved  his  hands  about  furiously  as  he  spoke, 
clapping  his  palms  together  and  pouring  the  words 
out  upon  one  another  in  a  torrent.  Isaac  Naylor 
must  have  had  some  fear  that  Tom  would  do  him  a 
harm  in  his  passion,  for  he  stepped  a  pace  back. 
"  Come,  come,  Thomas  !  "  said  he,  soothingly ; 
"  don't  be  violent ;  I've  done  thee  no  harm — at  least, 
I've  done  thee  no  witting  harm.  Every  one  said 
that  thee  was  dead ;  even  thy  own  people  said  so. 
Go  thy  ways,  Thomas,  and  let  me  go  mine  in  peace. 
Come  ;  let  me  past !  " 

"  No,  by  G-d !  Thee'll  not  go  a  step  from  this 
till  I  let  thee.  Thee  shan't  see  Patty  this  day ! 
She's  mine  and  no  other  man  shall  have  her  for  his 
wife !  Will  thee  give  her  up  to  me,  Isaac  Naylor  ? 
Will  thee  give  her  up  ?  Will  thee  give  her  up,  I 
say  ?  " 

Every  time  he  repeated  this  he  came  a  step 
forward  and  Isaac  moved  a  step  back.  Tom  was 
more  than  half  crazy  with  his  fury  and  the  Friend 
seemed  very  anxious  and  looked  back  at  the  road. 

"  Thomas  !  Thomas  !  "  said  he,  "  don't  be  violent ; 
be  reasonable ;  how  could  I  make  thee  any  such 
promise  as  that  ?  Let  me  past,  I  must  see  Patty ; 
there's  reason  why  I  must  see  her  now." 


192  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

"  Will  thee  give  my  darling  back  to  me  again  ?" 

"  I  tell  thee,  Thomas,  it  can't  be  done.  I  cannot 
doit!" 

"Thee  won't  do  it?"  Tom  stepped  forward  as 
he  spoke,  waving  his  fist  threateningly,  and  again 
Isaac  stepped  backward  before  him,  until  he  stood 
against  the  fence  at  the  roadside,  and  could  go  no 
farther ;  his  face  was  very  white  now,  and  he  was  in 
deadly  terror.  "  Let  me  go,  Thomas,"  said  he,  in  a 
trembling  voice;  "let  me  go — I'll  not  go  to  Patty; 
I'll  go  back  home  again."  As  he  spoke  he  made  a 
movement  to  turn,  as  though  to  escape. 

Tom's  head  was  in  a  mad  whirl;  there  was  a 
ringing  in  his  ears,  and  bright  sparks  danced  and 
swam  before  his  eyes.  "  By  the  eternal !  thee'll 
never  leave  this  place,  Isaac  Naylor,"  cried  he,  in  a 
terrible  voice. 

Then  Isaac  gave  a  shrill  cry—" Help!  Help!" 
As  the  words  left  his  lips,  Tom  leaped  upon  him, 
and  grappled  with  him.  He  struggled  furiously, 
and  Tom  heard  him  give  another  sharp  and  terrible 
cry.  Tom  twisted  his  fingers  into  the  Friend's 
neckerchief,  and,  after  that  he  made  no  other  noise 
but  a  half-choked,  strangling  gurgle.  Tom  dragged 
him  backward,  and  flung  him  down  upon  his  knees. 
There  was  a  rough-knotted  stake  lying  by  him ;  it 
was  a  part  of  a  fence  rail.  He  picked  it  up  and 
raised  it  to  strike. 

I  thank  the  Lord  that  his  reason  came  back  to 
him  when  it  did.  Another  moment,  and  he  would 
have  been  beating  the  life  out  of  the  poor  terrified 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  193 

wretch  at  his  knee.  But  suddenly,  as  though  a 
cloud  passed  from  before  his  eyes,  he  saw  the  white 
horror-struck  face,  the  parted  lips,  and  the  staring 
eyes  that  were  glaring  up  at  him.  Then  he  gave 
a  cry  so  sharp  that  it  rang  in  his  own  ears,  and 
flinging  down  the  stake,  loosened  his  hold  on  Isaac. 

He  stood  for  a  moment  staring  at  the  Friend, 
who  staggered  to  his  feet,  and  then  sank  down  on  a 
great  rock  that  lay  near  to  them,  swaying  this  way 
and  that,  as  though  he  were  about  to  faint.  Then 
Tom  turned  and  ran. 

The  next  minute  he  was  out  in  the  highroad. 

Beside  the  bridge  was  a  shallow  pool,  through 
which  folks  drove  their  teams  in  the  summer  time, 
and  where  they  often  stopped  to  water  their  horses. 
There  was  a  black  horse  standing  in  the  shallow 
now,  and  a  man  was  sitting  upon  its  back.  Tom 
looked  up  as  he  ran  out  into  the  road,  and  saw  that 
it  was  Mr.  Moor. 

Mr.  Moor's  eyes  were  fixed  upon  his  own  with  a 
very  singular  look,  and  it  struck  Tom  how  white 
his  face  was.  But  all  this  he  saw  only  in  one  quick 
glance,  for  he  turned  the  corner  of  the  road,  and 
ran  toward  home  without  stopping.  There  was  a 
long  and  steep  hill  in  front  of  him,  and  before  he 
reached  the  top  he  fell  into  a  walk,  for  he  was 
panting  and  laboring  for  breath.  After  a  while  he 
reached  the  crest  of  the  hill,  and  before  him  lay  a 
level  stretch  of  road;  some  distance  along  it  he 
could  see  the  tall  cedars  that  stood  around  the  old 
homestead  farm-house.  At  last  he  came  to  where 

13 


194  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

the  long  lane  ran  winding  down  from  the  house 
amongst  the  maple  and  ailanthus  trees,  and  opened 
on  the  turnpike  road  through  a  gate  that  always 
stood  open.  Then  Tom  broke  into  a  run  again ;  up 
the  lane  he  went,  and  so  came  at  last  to  the  paved 
porch  at  the  back  of  the  house,  noticing  as  he 
passed,  that  Will  Games'  horse  and  gig  were 
standing  beside  the  horse  block  across  the  road. 
Then  he  burst  into  the  house,  and  into  the  best 
room. 

All  of  the  shutters  were  bowed  but  one,  which 
was  half  opened,  giving  a  faint  light  into  the  dark- 
ened room.  Tom's  father  and  mother,  his  sister 
Susan,  and  his  two  elder  brothers  and  Will  Gaines 
were  all  there.  His  mother  was  sitting  in  a  rocking 
chair,  the  tears  running  down  her  pale  face,  and 
Susan  was  fanning  her  with  a  palm-leaf  fan.  Will 
Gaines  had  told  them  of  his  coming,  and  Tom 
afterward  found  that  his  mother  had  fainted,  and 
had  only  just  recovered  from  her  swoon. 

"  Mother ! "  cried  he,  and  he  ran  to  her  and  flung 
himself  on  his  knees  in  front  of  her,  burying  his 
face  in  her  lap,  while  great  sobs  shook  him  through 
and  through. 

No  one  spoke  for  a  long  time,  but  Tom  felt  his 
mother's  soft  touch  smoothing  his  hair.  I  think 
that  they  were  all  weeping  at  that  time.  I  know 
that  Susan  was  crying  on  the  corner  of  the  sofa, 
where  she  had  flung  herself,  burying  her  face  in  the 
cushion.  It  was  Will  Gaines  who  spoke  first. 

"  I  guess  I'll  go  now,"  said  he,  in  a  broken  voice ; 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  195 

and  Tom  presently  heard  him  shutting  the  door 
softly  behind  him. 

Then  another  space  of  dead  silence  followed, 
broken  only  by  Susan's  catching  breath.  At  last 
Tom's  mother  spoke. 

"Where  has  thee  been,  Thomas?"  said  she. 

"  I've  been  to  see  Patty,  mother." 

"  Oh,  Tom  !  Tom  "  cried  Susan ;  and  Tom  could 
feel  his  mother's  hand  trembling  as  it  rested  upon  his 
head.  Presently  she  spoke  in  an  unsteady  voice : 

*'  Leave  us  for  a  little  while,  father;  it'll  be  best — 
just  for  a  little  while." 

Then  the  others  went  out,  and  they  were  left 
alone.  Tom  told  all  about  his  meeting  with  Patty, 
in  broken  and  disconnected  words.  Every  now 
and  then  he  would  stop,  for  there  were  times  when 
the  words  that  he  sought  to  say  would  not  come. 
He  felt  that  his  mother  was  crying,  though  she  was 
crying  silently.  It  was  good  for  him  to  tell  all  of 
his  troubles,  for  there  are  times  when  our  sorrows 
gather  upon  us  like  great  waters,  that  will  over- 
whelm the  soul  if  they  do  not  find  an  outlet  in 
speech. 

Tom's  mother  knew  of  the  comfort  that  words 
bring  with  them,  so  she  let  him  talk  on,  without 
saying  anything  herself.  When  he  had  ended,  she 
spoke  gentle  and  loving  words  to  him,  though  she 
could  give  him  no  hope. 

"  I  wish  that  I'd  not  seen  Patty,"  said  Tom ; 
"  I  wish  that  I'd  come  straight  home  as  Will  told 
me  to  do.  Why  didn't  he  tell  me  of  all  this  ?  " 


196  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

"I  suppose  that  he  couldn't  bring  himself  to 
do  it." 

"  I  wish  I'd  not  seen  her,"  said  Tom,  again. 

"  It's  too  late  for  wishing  now,"  said  his  mother. 

Nothing  more  was  said  between  them,  and  both 
knew  that  the  marriage  must  be  gone  through  with 
now.  The  time  had  been  fixed  for  the  wedding. 
It  was  for  eleven  o'clock  the  next  morning.  The 
friends  had  all  been  asked,  the  new  house  was 
furnished,  the  linen  provided,  and  even  Patty's 
dresses  made.  It  could  not  be  stopped  without 
great  scandal  to  all  concerned.  If  only  he  had  not 
come  back  again.  Then  Patty  would  have  been 
married  quietly  to  a  man  whom  she  could  respect, 
if  not  love,  and  her  life  would  not  have  been  with- 
out contentment.  But  now  that  she  had  seen  him, 
what  contentment  could  she  have,  loving  him  and 
marrying  another  man  ? 

At  last  they  quitted  the  room  together ;  but  the 
first  bitterness  had  passed  and  gone.  The  first  one 
whom  he  met  was  Susan.  She  flung  her  arms 
around  his  neck  and  kissed  him,  the  tears  brimming 
in  her  eyes  as  she  did  so. 

"  Dear,  dear  Tom,"  said  she,  and  Tom  knew  from 
the  tone  of  her  voice  that  she  was  thinking  of  Patty, 
though  her  name  had  not  been  spoken  betwixt 
them. 

"  Don't,  Susan,"  said  he,  huskily,  for  his  heart 
was  still  very  sore. 

Then  his  father  came  and  shook  hands  with  him, 
as  did  William  also,  and  presently  John  came  over 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  197 

from  the  barnyard  and  joined  them.  This  was  all 
of  the  family  that  were  at  home,  for  Henry  was  in  a 
store  in  Lancaster  and  Mary  was  visiting  friends  in 
Chester. 

Friends,  of  the  old  times  especially,  were  a 
restrained,  self-repressed  people,  giving  but  little 
freedom  to  the  flow  of  natural  feeling.  Tom's 
father  and  his  brothers  had  been  moved — deeply 
moved ;  but  now,  when  they  came  forward  to  shake 
him  by  the  hand,  excepting  for  the  closeness  of  the 
grip  that  they  gave  him  and  the  firmness  of  the 
pressure  of  palm  to  palm,  no  one  would  have 
thought  that  he  had  returned  to  them  as  the  dead 
might  return  from  the  grave.  It  was,  so  far  as  any 
outward  forms  were  concerned,  as  though  he  had 
but  just  come  home  after  a  two  weeks'  absence. 

After  a  few  hesitating  words  of  welcome,  the 
men  folks  sat  down  and  Tom  began  telling  of 
those  things  that  had  befallen  him  in  the  year  and 
a  half  past.  He  spun  his  yarn  pretty  steadily, 
though  every  now  and  then  he  would  stop  in  his 
speech,  for  as  he  told  of  the  finding  of  the  money 
on  the  island,  his  words  brought  before  him  all  of 
those  hopes  that  had  borne  him  up  through  the 
toil ;  then  a  rush  of  feeling  would  sweep  over  him 
as  he  thought  how  all  this  had  been  taken  out  of 
his  life,  and  he  would  stop  in  his  talking  to  steady 
himself.  He  said  nothing  of  this  to  the  others,  but 
I  think  that  they  all  felt  the  sorrow  that  was  lying 
at  the  bottom  of  his  heart.  Then  they  sat  down  to 
supper. 


19  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

Tom's  father  tried  to  turn  the  talk  more  cheer- 
fully. 

"  We  haven't  told  thee  the  great  news,  Thomas," 
said  he. 

"What  is  it?"  said  Tom. 

"  Thee  sees,  thy  coming  upset  us  all,  so  that  we 
didn't  think  of  it.  Thee  tell  him,  Susan." 

Susan  looked  down,  and  the  color  rose  in  her 
face. 

"What  is  the  news ? "  said  Tom,  again. 

"Well,"  said  his  father,  "as  Susan  don't  seem 
inclined  to  tell  thee,  I  suppose  I  must  do  it  myself. 
How  would  thee  like  Will  Gaines  for  a  brother  ?" 

Tom  did  not  speak  for  a  moment,  then  he  said,  a 
little  unsteadily;  "  I — I  wish  thee  joy,  Susan;  thee's 
chosen  a  good  man  for  thy  husband,  and  I  believe 
he'll  make  thee  happy." 

Then  they  were  silent  for  a  while. 

"When  is  thee  going  to  be  married?"  said  Tom 
again,  at  last. 

"The  time's  not  fixed  yet;  some  time  in  the 
eleventh  month,  I  guess." 

After  a  while  Tom's  father  spoke. 

"  What's  thee  going  to  do  now,  Thomas?"  said  he. 

"I  don't  know  exactly,"  said  Tom,  huskily;  "I'm 
going  to  Philadelphia  again  on  the  first  stage 
to-morrow." 

His  mother  looked  earnestly  at  him,  and  the  tears 
rose  in  her  eyes,  and  rolled  slowly  down  her  cheeks ; 
then  she  pushed  back  her  chair,  and  left  the  table 
hurriedly. 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  199 

Presently  they  all  arose  and  went  into  the  sitting- 
room.  There  was  a  fire  burning  in  the  fireplace,  for, 
though  the  days  were  warm,  the  evenings  were  cool 
and  frosty.  The  four  men  sat  down  around  the  fire, 
smoking  and  talking  together  in  a  rambling  fashion. 
Their  words  were  constrained,  for  each  felt  upon  his 
mind  the  parting  that  was  to  come  to-morrow. 

So  the  time  passed  until  the  old  clock  in  the 
corner  struck  nine.  Then  Tom's  father  arose  in  the 
way  that  Tom  knew  so  well,  and  lit  his  candle  with 
one  of  the  paper  lamplighters  on  the  mantle  shelf. 
Before  he  left  the  room  he  came  to  Tom  and  laid 
his  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"Thy  burthen's  heavy,  Thomas,"  said  he;  "bear 
it  like  a  man." 

"  I'll  try,"  said  Tom. 

"  I  wish  that  we  could  have  thee  longer  with  us, 
but  thee's  doing  right  to  go ;  thee  mustn't  stay  in 
the  neighborhood  just  now."  He  stood  for  a 
moment  as  though  he  were  about  to  say  something 
more ;  he  did  not  speak  again,  however,  but  pres- 
ently turned  and  left  the  room. 

Such  was  Tom's  home-coming  after  a  year  and  a 
half  of  shipwreck  and  misery.  How  had  he  looked 
forward  to  that  home-coming,  and  how  had  it,  like 
dead  sea  fruit,  turned  to  bitterness  in  the  mouth ! 
Truly,  it  is  kind  in  the  good  Father  that  he  has 
given  us  to  look  into  the  past,  and  not  forward  into 
that  which  is  to  come.  What  hope  would  there  be 
left  in  the  world,  if  we  could  know  the  sorrows  that 
were  to  come  upon  us  in 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

IT  oftentimes  comes  in  this  world  that  cares  and 
troubles  fall  upon  one,  not  in  one  deadly  blow, 
but  in  stroke  after  stroke,  as  though  to  bear  the 
man  to  the  earth  with  their  constant  beating. 
Surely  men's  souls  are  of  tough  fibre  that  they  can 
so  bend  beneath  such  blows,  beaten  down  only  to 
rise  again,  bruised,  wounded,  but  living.  There  is 
within  a  man  a  courage  bred  of  hope  that  lives 
even  in  the  darkest  moments ;  a  courage  that  lifts 
him  up  again  out  of  the  dust  and  supports  him 
along  his  way,  lame  and  sore,  perhaps,  but  not 
broken  down  utterly. 

So  it  was  with  Tom.  Bitter  troubles  had  come 
upon  him  during  the  past  year  and  a  half,  and  the 
bitterest  and  darkest  of  all  had  fallen  upon  him  the 
day  before.  Still  more  were  to  come,  and  yet  he 
has  lived  through  these  and  others  until  his  life  has 
covered  a  span  of  nigh  four  score  and  ten,  and  at 
the  end  of  them  all  he  can  still  say  that  life  is  a 
pleasant  thing. 

Tom  was  up  at  the  peep  of  day,  for  there  were 
some  things  that  he  wished  to  take  with  him,  and 
the  packing  of  them  must  be  done  before  breakfast 
200 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  2OI 

time.  He  was  to  leave  on  the  Enterprise  stage, 
which  passed  the  house  about  eight  o'clock. 

Little  was  said  amongst  the  members  of  the 
family  during  breakfast  time,  and  only  a  few  words 
were  spoken  about  his  going.  Half-past  seven 
came  and  then  Tom  stood  up  and  kissed  his 
mother  and  Susan.  Susan  clung  to  him  weeping ; 
his  mother's  eyes  were  full  of  tears,  but  they  did  not 
flow  over. 

"  The  Lord  bless  thee,  my  son  !  "  said  she,  with 
trembling  lips.  These  were  all  the  words  that  she 
spoke. 

"  Come,  Thomas,"  said  his  father  at  last ;  "  the 
stage'll  soon  be  along,  and  thee'll  miss  it  if  thee  don't 
look  out.  I'll  walk  down  to  the  road  with  thee." 

"  Farewell,  William,"  said  Tom,  shaking  hands 
with  his  brother. 

"  Farewell,  Thomas." 

"John-—" 

"  I  guess  I'll  walk  down  to  the  road  with  thee, 
Thomas.  Let  me  carry  thy  bundle,"  said  John. 

"  Never  mind ;  it's  very  light,"  said  Tom. 

They  were  silent  as  they  went  down  the  lane, 
and  silent  for  a  while  as  they  stood  at  the  roadside 
waiting  for  the  stage ;  each  was  occupied  with  his 
own  thoughts.  At  last  John  broke  through  the 
painful  silence.  "  The  stage  is  mighty  late  this 
morning,"  said  he,  in  a  constrained  voice. 

"  Thee'll  write  to  us,  won't  thee,  Thomas  ?  "  said 
his  father,  looking  away  as  he  spoke. 

"  Yes,"  said  Tom. 


202  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

"  Vender's  the  stage  coming  down  Wilkes'  Hill," 
said  John. 

But  it  was  destined  that  Tom  was  not  to  go  to 
Philadelphia  that  day  on  the  Enterprise  stage,  or  for 
some  time  to  come. 

"  Who's  that  coming  up  the  road  yonder,"  said 
John. 

"  It  looks  like  William  Gaines,"  said  Tom's  father. 

"  It  is  Will  Gaines,"  said  Tom. 

So  Will  came  galloping  up  to  them,  and  then  all 
three  men  saw  from  his  face  that  he  was  the  bearer 
of  strange  news.  He  leaped  from  his  horse  without 
a  word  of  greeting,  or  without  seeming  to  wonder 
why  the  three  were  standing  there.  His  mind  was 
too  preoccupied  to  give  attention  to  anything  but 
his  thoughts. 

"  Have  you  heard  what's  happened  ?  "  said  he. 

"  No." 

"What?" 

Will  hesitated  for  a  moment  and  then  said,  in  a 
solemn  voice  :  "  Isaac  Naylor  has  been  murdered ! " 

There  was  a  space  of  dead  silence. 

"  Isaac  Naylor  murdered ! "  said  Tom's  father 
under  his  breath.  Will  nodded  his  head;  he  was 
looking  straight  at  Tom  ;  his  face  was  very  pale  and 
there  was  a  troubled,  anxious  look  in  his  eyes. 

"  Murdered !"  repeated  John,  mechanically,  "where, 
when,  how  ?  " 

"  Ephraim  Whiteley  and  his  colored  man  found 
him  at  five  o'clock  this  morning;  his  scull  was 
beaten  in  with  a  piece  of  fence-rail  I  " 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  203 

"  My  God  ! "  cried  Tom.  He  put  his  hand  to  his 
forehead,  for  horrible  thoughts  were  passing  through 
his  mind.  Could  he — could  he  have  killed  Isaac  ? 
Was  it  a  creation  of  his  fancy  that  had  left  him 
sitting  upon  the  rock,  half  strangled,  but  otherwise 
unhurt? 

"  Where  did  they  find  him  ?"  said  John,  in  a  low 
voice. 

"  On  the  old  mill  road,  about  three  hundred  yards 
from  the  turnpike." 

Tom  looked  slowly  about  him;  was  he  dream- 
ing? Did  he  really  hear  the  words  that  Will 
spoke  ? 

The  Philadelphia  coach  had  come  up  to  them, 
but  no  one  had  noticed  its  coming.  They  must 
have  showed  by  their  faces  that  something  strange 
had  happened,  for  the  coach  stopped  when  it  came 
to  where  they  were  standing. 

"What's  the  matter?"  cried  old  John  Grundy, 
from  the  box. 

"  Isaac  Naylor's  been  murdered/'  said  John,  in  a 
low  voice. 

"  My  Lord !  Isaac  Naylor  murdered ! "  Then,  after 
a  moment's  pause — "Where  ? — How  ? — When  ?"  A 
half  a  dozen  heads  were  thrust  out  of  the  coach 
windows  by  this  time — they  all  listened  in  silence 
while  John  repeated  that  which  Will  had  just  told 
them.  The  coach  went  on  down  the  road,  but  it 
did  not  take  Tom  with  it. 

Then  Will  turned  to  Tom — "Tom,  I  want  to 
speak  to  you  for  a  minute,"  said  he. 


204  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

Tom  stepped  aside  with  him,  without  answering. 

Will  was  holding  his  horse  by  the  reins ;  he  did 
not  speak  for  a  moment  or  two,  but  stood  as  though 
thinking  what  to  say. 

"  Tom,  have  you  seen  Isaac  Nay  lor  since  you've 
come  back  ?"  said  he,  at  last. 

"  Yes." 

"Where?" 

Tom  hesitated  before  he  spoke. 

"  Where  ?"  said  Will,  again. 

"At — at  the  place  where  they  found  him  this 
morning,"  said  Tom.  He  looked  straight  at  Will 
as  he  spoke,  but  Will  turned  his  eyes  away. 

"  Tom,"  said  he,  "  there's  a  warrant  out  for  your 
arrest." 

"Mine!" 

"  Yes ;  yours,  Tom.  I  expect  the  constable's  on 
his  way  from  Eastcaster  now.  Anyway,  there's  no 
time  to  lose.  Here's  a  horse  ready  for  you ;  jump 
on  her  and  leave  the  country ! " 

"Will." 

"Well;  what  is  it?" 

"  Do  you  believe  that  I  killed  Isaac  Naylor  ?" 

Will  did  not  answer,  but  stood  looking  fixedly 
on  the  ground. 

"  Never  mind ;  I  don't  ask  you  to  answer  me, 
Will.  I'll  tell  you,  however,  that  I  did  not  do  it. 
I'll  stay  and  face  the  music." 

Then  Tom  turned  and  called  his  father  and  John. 
"  Father — John — did  you  hear  what  Will  said  ?  " 

"  No." 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  2O$ 

"  He  said  that  there's  a  warrant  out  against  me 
for  this  thing." 

"  A  warrant  out  against  thee  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  But  thee  hasn't  seen  Isaac  Naylor  since  thee 
came  home,  Thomas,"  said  his  father. 

"  Yes,  I  did,  father." 

"Where?" 

"  At  the  very  place  where  he  was  murdered." 

Then  he  told  all  that  had  passed  between  him 
and  Isaac  Naylor,  and  of  how  near  he  had  come  to 
doing  that  of  which  he  was  accused.  His  father 
listened  without  a  word,  looking  deeply  and  fixedly 
into  Tom's  eyes  the  while.  John  was  looking 
intently  at  him,  too.  Will  was  standing,  turned  half 
away.  When  Tom  had  ended,  his  father  spoke  to 
him  in  a  low  voice : 

"  Thomas." 

"Well?" 

"  Is— is  that  all  ?     Has  thee  told  us  all  ?  " 

"  Yes,  father." 

"  Why  didn't  thee  speak  of  it  before  ?" 

"  I  couldn't  bear  to  do  it.  I  was  afraid  to  tell 
how  I  had  treated  him — an  overseer  in  the  meeting." 

Tom's  heart  crumbled  within  him  at  the  silence 
that  followed  his  words. 

"  Father,"  he  said,  "  so  help  me  God,  my  hands 
are  clean  of  this  thing.  Does  thee  suppose  I'd 
have  come  home  if  I'd  done  it?" 

"Wait  a  minute,  Thomas;  I'm  thinking,"  said 
his  father.  He  stood  picking  at  his  finger-tips,  and 


206  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

looking  earnestly  at  them.  At  last  he  raised  his 
head.  "  I  don't  believe  that  thee  did  do  it,  Thomas. 
I  can't  believe  it." 

"  Neither  can  I ! "  burst  out  John.  "  My  brother 
couldn't  do  a  thing  like  that.  My  mother's  son 
couldn't  kill  a  man.  I  don't  believe  it,  and  I  can't 
believe  it!" 

The  tears  sprang  into  Tom's  eyes  at  these  words. 
He  looked  at  Will,  but  Will's  head  was  still  turned 
away.  "  Here  comes  the  constable,"  said  he,  at 
last,  in  a  low  voice. 

A  horse  and  gig  had  come  up  from  behind 
Stony-Brook  Hill.  When  it  reached  the  level  road 
between  them  and  the  crest  of  the  rise  the  nag 
broke  into  a  trot.  ' 

"Yes,  that's  Johnson's  team,"  said  John,  and 
then  he  turned  his  head  away. 

They  all  stood  silently  until  at  last  the  gig  came 
up  to  where  they  were.  The  constable  and  his 
deputy  were  both  in  it.  The  constable  drew  up  the 
horse,  and  threw  the  reins  to  the  deputy.  Then  he 
stepped  out  and  came  over  to  where  the  others 
were  standing,  drawing  a  paper  out  of  his  breast- 
pocket as  he  did  so.  He  had  not  said  a  word  up 
to  this  time. 

"  I  know  what  you're  coming  for,"  said  Tom ; 
"  I'm  ready  to  go  with  you,  Johnson." 

"The  Lord  knows — I'd  rather  lose  a  hundred 
dollars,  than  have  to  do  this,"  said  the  constable. 

"  I  believe  you  would,"  said  Tom. 

"  Can  thee  wait  a  little  while,  Eben  ?"  said  Tom's 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES,  2O/ 

father;  "I'd  like  to  drive  over  to  Squire  Morrow's 
along  with  you.  I'll  slip  up  to  the  house  and  gear 
Nelly  to  the  wagon ;  it  won't  take  me  a  minute." 

The  constable  drew  a  watch  out  of  his  fob,  and 
looked  at  it.  "  I  guess  I  can  wait  a  little  bit,  Mr. 
Granger,"  said  he;  "the  witnesses  weren't  all  at  the 
squire's  when  I  left.  You'll  have  to  step  into  the 
gig  though,  Tom,  and  I'll — I'll  have  to  put  cuffs  on 
you." 

"  Will  you  have  to  do  that  ?" 

"  I'm  afraid  I  will ;" — he  drew  the  hand-cuffs  out 
of  his  pocket  as  he  spoke;  there  was  a  sharp 
"  click  !  click  ! "  and  Tom  felt  the  cold  iron  circling 
his  wrists. 

His  father  groaned,  and  when  Tom  looked  at 
him,  he  saw  that  his  face  was  as  white  as  wax.  He 
turned,  and  he  and  John  walked  slowly  up  the  lane 
toward  the  house. 

Then  Tom  stepped  to  the  gig,  and  climbed  in 
beside  the  deputy  constable.  Johnson  went  to  the 
roadside,  and  sat  down  on  the  bank.  He  sat  with 
his  elbows  resting  on  his  knees,  and  his  hands 
hanging  clasped  together  between  them.  Will 
stood  leaning  against  the  pailing  fence,  and  nothing 
was  said,  excepting  once  when  the  constable  spoke 
to  his  deputy. 

"  Better  turn  the  hoss,  Jos  ;  you  won't  have  to  do 
it  then  when  Mr.  Granger  and  John  come  back." 

After  a  while  they  saw  John  drive  the  farm-wagon 
over  from  the  stable  to  the  house.  William  was 
sitting  beside  him  and  presently  Tom's  father  came 


208  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

t  'it  of  the  house  and  climbed  slowly  into  it.  Then 
t;-*ey  drove  down  the  road  to  where  the  others  were 
waiting. 

"  Father,  how  did  mother  take  the  news  ?  "  said 
Tom. 

"Very well!  Very  well!  Better  than  I  ex- 
pected," said  his  father,  briefly ;  then  he  turned  to 
Will :  "  Thee'd  better  go  up  to  the  house,  William  ; 
I'd  like  thee  to  stay  with  mother  and  Susan  while 
we're  gone." 

Will  mounted  his  horse  without  a  word,  and, 
turning  into  the  lane,  galloped  up  to  the  house 
beneath  the  shadows  of  the  trees. 

"  Are  you  all  ready  ?  "  said  the  constable,  stand- 
ing with  one  foot  on  the  step  of  the  gig. 

"  All  ready." 

Then  he  climbed  in  and  they  all  drove  away 
toward  Eastcaster. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

AS  the  gig  rattled  down  the  hill  and  past  the  end 
of  Penrose's  road,  Tom  leaned  forward  and 
looked  up  toward  the  spot  where  he  had  met  Isaac 
Naylor  the  day  before.  A  knot  of  people  had 
gathered  about  the  place  where  the  body  had  been 
found,  collected  there  by  the  morbid  curiosity  that 
stirs  men  at  such  a  time  ;  they  were  talking  earnestly 
together,  some  sitting  on  the  fence,  some  leaning 
against  it. 

At  last  they  reached  the  level  road  that  led  into 
Eastcaster,  and  the  nag  broke  into  a  trot.  The 
houses  were  clustered  more  thickly  together  around 
the  outskirts  of  the  town.  Of  course,  the  news  had 
spread  everywhere,  and  knots  of  people  were  gath- 
ered here  and  there  talking  the  matter  over.  As 
the  gig  witn  the  three  men  in  it  rattled  along  the 
stony  street,  the  talk  would  be  hushed  in  these 
groups,  and  the  people  would  turn  and  gaze  at  the 
constables  and  their  prisoner.  Tom  had  not  re- 
alized all  that  he  would  have  to  pass  through  till 
now ;  he  had  not  known  what  it  would  be  to  have 
his  neighbors  and  old  acquaintances  staring  at  him 
with  that  look  of  mixed  curiosity  and  horror.  He 

14  209 


210  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

shrunk  together  in  the  gig  back  of  the  constables, 
striving  to  hide  himself  behind  them.  Johnson 
must  have  known  how  he  felt,  for  he  laid  the  whip 
to  the  horse  and  drove  on  as  fast  as  possible. 

At  last  they  reached  Squire  Morrow's  office,  at 
the  corner  of  Market  and  Andover  streets.  It  was 
a  small,  dark  two-storied  building,  with  an  old- 
fashioned  hipped  roof; — it  has  since  been  torn  down 
to  make  way  for  Prettyman's  new  store.  A  great 
crowd  had  gathered  around  the  corner  about  the 
squire's  office,  and  they  could  see  through  the 
windows  that  the  room  was  packed  with  the  people 
inside.  The  gig  drew  up  to  the  sidewalk  and  the 
constable  stepped  down  out  of  it. 

"  You'll  have  to  get  down,  now,  Tom,"  whispered 
Jos  Giddings,  the  deputy,  in  Tom's  ear.  Then  Tom 
stepped  out  and  the  deputy  followed  him.  The 
constable  had  a  great  deal  of  trouble  in  pushing  his 
way  through  the  people,  for  they  crowded  up  very 
closely  to  get  a  look  at  Tom.  He  walked  with  his 
eyes  fixed  straight  ahead  of  him ;  he  saw  nothing 
but  the  crown  of  the  constable's  hat,  but  he  knew, 
as  well  as  though  he  had  looked  about  him,  that  a 
mass  of  faces  were  gazing  at  him  with  eager  and 
intense  curiosity.  He  also  knew  that  his  father  and 
his  brothers,  John  and  William,  had  gotten  out  of 
the  farm  wagon  and  were  following  close  behind 
him. 

"  Stand  out  of  the  way  there  !  "  said  the  constable, 
in  a  loud  voice,  as  he  pushed  into  the  office,  and  then 
Tom  found  himself  standing  beside  a  railing  that 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  211 

separated  the  squire's  desk  from  the  mass  of  people 
packed  into  the  body  of  the  office.  The  light  came 
through  a  little  window  in  the  end  of  the  room,  so 
that  Tom  could  see  things  only  duskily  after  coming 
in  from  the  dazzling  glare  of  the  sunlight  outside. 
Mr.  Morrow  was  sitting  at  his  desk,  leaning  back  in 
his  chair,  with  a  very  troubled  look  in  his  eyes.  He 
was  playing  absently  with  a  pen  that  lay  on  the 
table  in  front  of  him. 

"  Won't  the  prisoner  sit  down,  constable  ?  "  said 
he  ;  "  he  looks  pretty  badly." 

"  I  don't  care  to  sit  down,"  said  Tom,  "  I'd  rather 
stand."  He  was  resting  with  his  handcuffed  hands 
on  the  railing  in  front  of  him  ;  after  a  while  he 
collected  his  courage,  and  then  he  looked  slowly 
around  him. 

A  number  of  people  were  sitting  inside  of  the 
railing ;  the  first  one  that  he  saw  was  Patty  Penrose, 
and  on  her  his  eyes  lingered  long  and  painfully. 
She  was  very  white,  and  dark  rings  encircled  her 
eyes.  She  sat  with  her  handkerchief  in  her  hand, 
and  she  wiped  the  slow  tears  from  her  cheeks  with 
it  every  now  and  then.  Her  father  sat  beside  her, 
looking  very  hard  and  stern.  He  did  not  glance  at 
Tom  until  later  in  the  examination  that  followed. 
Just  behind  Elihu  Penrose  sat  Mr.  Moor.  He,  too, 
was  very  pale,  and  every  now  and  then  he  wiped 
his  face  with  a  bandana  handkerchief.  Beside  these 
three  were  Ephraim  Whiteley  and  his  colored  man, 
Mrs.  Bond,  the  landlady  of  the  Crown  and  Angel, 
and  Dr.  Winterapple. 


212  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

Then  Tom  looked  up  and  saw  that  his  father  and 
his  two  brothers  stood  beside  him. 

The  first  witness  called  was  Ephraim  Whiteley. 
He  was  tall,  ungainly,  round  shouldered  and  loose 
jointed.  He  was  an  elderly  man;  a  very  plain 
Friend,  and,  like  Isaac  Naylor,  was  one  of  the  over- 
seers of  the  meeting. 

Of  course,  he  affirmed,  for  Friends  are  not 
allowed,  by  the  Society,  to  take  oath  as  to  the 
truth  of  evidence.  He  testified  that  he  and  his 
colored  man  "  Jim "  were  going  to  Downeyville 
with  a  load  of  potatoes.  They  had  started  early 
in  the  morning — about  five  o'clock,  he  should 
think.  Had  found  deceased  lying  in  front  of  the 
"  big  stone  "  beside  the  roadside,  about  two  or  three 
hundred  yards  from  the  turnpike.  Had  thought 
that  it  was  some  one  who  had  been  drinking — 
remembers  that  Jim  said  something  to  that  effect. 
Had  not  thought  differently  from  this,  until  he 
had  come  close  to  where  deceased  was  lying.  He 
noticed  then  a  dark  stain  on  the  collar,  and  also 
deceased's  plain  coat — he  knew  that  something  was 
wrong.  He  stopped  the  wagon,  and  he  and  Jim 
went  over  to  where  the  body  was  lying.  Found  a 
heavy  knotted  piece  of  wood  lying  close  to  the 
deceased,  and  noticed  that  there  was  blood  upon 
it.  He  had  turned  deceased  over;  did  not  know 
who  it  was  until  he  heard  Jim  say,  "  Good  Lord ! 
it's  Mr.  Naylor!"  He  and  Jim  lifted  the  body 
into  the  wagon,  and  drove  over  to  Elijah  Hunt's, 
thinking  it  best  to  take  it  to  deceased's  cousin. 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  213 

Had  summoned  the  coroner  at  Elijah  Hunt's  re- 
quest. 

The  next  witness  called  was  James  Madison 
Trusty  (colored). 

He  was  in  Mr.  Whiteley's  employ.  He  had  gone 
with  Mr.  Whiteley  to  take  a  load  of  potatoes  to 
Downeyville.  He  had  called  Mr.  Whiteley's  atten- 
tion to  the  body  of  the  deceased.  It  was  lying  on 
it's  face  in  the  grass,  close  to  the  "  big  stone."  He 
had  thought  at  first  that  it  was  some  one  drunk.  He 
had  said  to  Mr.  Whiteley  that  "  there  was  a  happy 
man,"  or,  "  that  man  ought  to  be  happy,"  or  some 
such  speech — could  not  remember  the  exact  words. 
He  did  not  think  much  about  it  till  Mr.  Whiteley 
stopped  the  cart  and  jumped  out.  Mr.  Whiteley 
had  turned  the  body  over,  and  he  had  recognized 
the  face  as  that  of  Mr.  Naylor — called  Mr.  White- 
ley's  attention  to  the  same.  Mr.  Whiteley  called  on 
him  to  lift  deceased  into  the  cart.  He  was  very 
sick,  and  it  was  some  time  before  he  could  bring 
himself  to  touch  the  body. 

(Doctor)  Justin  S.  Winterapple  was  the  next 
witness  called. 

He  had  made  the  post-mortem  examination  before 
the  coroner's  jury.  There  was  the  mark  of  only 
one  contusion — it  was  at  the  base  of  the  cranium, 
immediately  behind  and  under  the  right  ear.  The 
bone  was  fractured  as  though  with  some  heavy 
weapon.  It  might  have  been  done  with  the  club  or 
knotted  piece  of  wood  found  lying  beside  the 
deceased — thought  altogether  likely  that  it  was 


214  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

done  by  it.  He  did  not  think  that  the  deceased 
died  immediately  upon  receiving  the  blow. 

All  this  -was  terrible  to  Tom ;  so  terrible  that  he 
grasped  the  railing  in  front  of  him,  until  his  finger 
nails  were  livid  with  the  force  of  the  grip.  But 
what  must  it  have  been  to  Patty  ?  Tom  looked  at 
her,  and  the  expression  of  her  face  made  him  forget 
his  own  troubles.  "  Oh,  God ! "  muttered  he  to 
himself,  "  that  I  should  have  come  home  to  bring 
all  this  upon  her ! " 

The  next  witness  called  was  Mrs.  Bond. 

She  testified  that  the  prisoner  had  come  by  the 
Union  line,  in  stage  No.  3,  the  day  before.  He  and 
Mr.  Gaines  had  met,  and  had  gone  into  the  parlor; 
they  had  talked  there  a  long  time,  and  at  last  the 
prisoner  had  come  out,  and  had  gone  up  Market 
street  in  the  direction  of  his  home.  She  had  not 
known  the  prisoner  until  Mr.  Gaines  had  told  her. 
She  remembered  to  have  remarked  how  changed 
he  was,  and  that  she  would  never  have  known  him 
with  his  long  beard  and  his  grey  hair. 

Mr.  Morrow  looked  vexed.  "  Why  hasn't  Mr. 
Gaines  been  called  ?"  said  he ;  "  how  is  it  he  hasn't 
been  called  ?  Where  is  he  now  ?" 

"  He's  out  at  Mr.  Milton  Granger's/'  said  the 
constable. 

The  magistrate  "pished"  and  " pshawed,"  but  at 
last  he  said  that  they  might  as  well  go  on  with  the 
examination  of  the  other  witnesses,  and  that  they 
could  send  for  Mr.  Gaines  if  his  evidence  should  be 
found  to  be  necessary. 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  215 

The  next  witness  called  was  Edmund  R.  Moor. 
The  Bible  was  passed  to  him  to  swear  upon,  but  he 
pushed  it  hurriedly  away  from  him  and  said  that  he 
would  affirm,  and  not  swear  to  the  truth  of  his 
statement.  Mr.  Morrow  seemed  somewhat  sur- 
prised, but  he  said  nothing,  and  took  Mr.  Moor's 
affirmation  as  he  desired.  He  then  testified  that  he 
had  been  with  Isaac  Naylor  the  afternoon  before,  at 
about  four  o'clock.  The  deceased  had  come  to 
consult  him  upon  a  matter  of  business  concerning 
some  money  that  he,  the  witness,  had  invested  for 
the  other.  He  had  left  him,  saying-  that  he  was 
going  down  to  White's  store  for  his  letters.  He 
had  seen  deceased  about  half  an  hour  later,  walking 
up  Market  Street.  He,  the  witness,  had  been  feel- 
ing ill  all  day,  and  had  quitted  his  office  to  step 
around  to  the  stable  for  his  horse,  thinking  a  ride 
might  be  of  benefit  to  him.  He  had  seen  deceased 
turn  into  Penrose's  road,  and  remembered  to  have 
heard  him  say,  a  little  while  before,  that  he  was 
going  to  see  Elihu  Penrose's  daughter,  whom  he 
was  engaged  to  marry. 

Tom  looked  at  Patty  as  Mr.  Moor  said  these 
words,  and  saw  her  hide  her  face  with  her  trembling 
hands.  He  groan€d  when  he  saw  the  agony  that  it 
caused  her. 

The  witness  then  went  on  to  say  that  he  had 
thought  no  more  of  it,  but  was  watering  his  horse 
at  the  shallow,  when  he  saw  the  prisoner  run  out  of 
the  road  and  turn  up  the  turnpike,  in  the  direction 
of  Granger's  farmhouse. 


2l6  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

The  magistrate  asked  Mr.  Moor  several  ques- 
tions, in  answer  to  which  he  said  that  he  had  not 
known  the  prisoner,  because  of  the  beard  and  the 
whiteness  of  his  hair ;  he  did  not  think  of  its  being 
Mr.  Thomas  Granger.  He  also  said  that  he  had 
gone  on  up  the  turnpike  after  he  had  watered  his 
horse ;  that  he  had  not  thought  of  anything  having 
happened  to  Isaac  Naylor,  and  that  he  did  not  hear 
any  cry  or  call  for  help,  to  make  him  think  that 
anything  had  gone  wrong. 

Mr.  Moor  was  so  white  that  the  magistrate  asked 
him  if  he  was  ill. 

"  I  do  feel  sick/'  said  he.  "  I  haven't  felt  well 
since  yesterday  morning.  Maybe  it's  the  closeness 
of  the  room  that  makes  me  feel  sick  now." 

He  wiped  his  face  with  his  bandana  handkerchief 
as  he  spoke,  for  it  was  wet  with  the  sweat  that  ran 
trickling  down  his  cheeks. 

"  I'm  sorry  you  feel  so  sick,  Mr.  Moor,"  said  the 
magistrate. 

"  If  you  have  no  more  use  for  me,  I'd  like  to  go," 
said  Mr.  Moor. 

Mr.  Morrow  said  that  he  might  leave  now,  if  he 
wished,  so  he  worked  his  way  through  the  crowd 
in  the  office,  looking  neither  to  the  right  nor  to  the 
left,  and  so  went  into  the  street. 

The  next  witness  called  was  Patty  Penrose,  and 
she  stood  up,  resting  her  hand  on  the  top  of  her 
chair  as  she  did  so.  There  was  not  a  particle  of 
color  in  her  face  as  she  stood  before  the  magistrate, 
A  strand  of  hair  had  fallen  across  her  brow,  but  she 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  2I/ 

did  not  brush  it  back,  or  seem  to  notice  it.  Tom's 
heart  bled  for  her  as  he  stood  looking  at  her. 

"  Will  you  swear  or  affirm  ?"  said  the  magistrate. 

"  I  affirm,"  she  answered,  in  a  low  voice.  Then 
she  repeated  after  him  the  words  of  affirmation  :  "  I 
do  most  solemnly  affirm — that  what  I  tell — is  the 
truth — the  whole  truth — and  nothing  but  the  truth." 

"  When  did  you  see  the  prisoner  last  ?  " 

"  Yesterday." 

"  At  what  time  was  it  ?" 

"  In  the  afternoon." 

"But  what  time  was  it — at  what  time  in  the 
afternoon  was  it  that  you  saw  him  ?  " 

She  did  not  answer  immediately,  and  Tom,  as  he 
looked  at  her,  saw  that  she  was  swaying,  as  though 
she  was  about  to  fall. 

"  Perhaps  the  witness  had  better  sit  down  while 
she  gives  her  evidence,"  said  Mr.  Morrow. 

Patty  did  not  seem  to  understand  him,  and  her 
father  spoke  to  her  in  a  low  voice.  Then  she  sat 
down  mechanically,  as  though  she  did  not  know 
what  she  was  doing. 

"Take  courage,  Patty!"  burst  out  Tom.  "God 
knows  I  am  innocent  of  this  !  God  knows  I  am ! " 

"  The  prisoner  must  be  silent ! "  said  the  magis- 
trate, rapping  on  the  desk  before  him  with  his 
knuckles.  Then,  speaking  to  Patty  again :  "  At 
what  hour  in  the  afternoon  was  it  that  you  saw  him  ?  " 

Patty  looked  up  and  her  eyes  met  Tom's.  He 
tried  to  smile.  "  Speak  out,  Patty,  and  tell  every- 
thing," said  he. 


218  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

"  About  five  o'clock,"  said  she,  faintly. 

"  What  was  said  between  you  ?  "  said  the  magis- 
trate. 

There  was  a  pause  of  dead  silence,  every  one 
listening  to  catch  the  answer.  At  last  the  magis- 
trate, after  waiting  a  while  for  her  to  speak,  re- 
peated : 

"  Can  you  tell  me  what  was  said  between  you  ?  " 

There  was  another  pause,  and  still  Patty  made  no 
answer.  Suddenly  she  burst  forth  :  "Oh,  I  can't! — 
I  can't ! — I  can't!  "  She  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands  as  she  spoke,  rocking  her  body  back  and 
forth,  while  convulsive  sobs  shook  her  through  and 
through. 

I  think  that  few  eyes  were  dry  in  the  magistrate's 
office.  Tom  stood  looking  at  his  darling  with 
trembling  lips,  the  tears  trickling  unnoticed  down 
his  cheeks.  Old  Elihu  Penrose  sat  gazing  stonily 
ahead  of  him,  his  hands  clasped  tightly  together 
upon  his  lap. 

Nothing  was  said  for  some  time,  and  Mr.  Morrow 
sat  wiping  his  spectacles.  After  a  while  he  spoke 
in  a  gentle  and  soothing  manner :  "  You  must 
answer  me— you  must,  indeed.  It  is  sad,  very  sad. 
I  wouldn't  ask  you  these  things  if  I  didn't  have  to. 
But  you  must  answer  me.  Can't  you  tell  me  what 
was  said  between  you  when  you  saw  him  last?" 

"  I — I — I  told — him — that  I  was  to — to  be  mar- 
ried— to-day." 

There  was  a  moment  of  hesitation  before  the 
magistrate  asked  the  next  question.  Then  it  came ; 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  21 9 

"  Was  there  a  promise  of  marriage  between  you 
and  the  prisoner  before  he  left  Eastcaster  a  year  and 
a  half  ago  ?  " 

Again  there  was  no  answer  given  to  Mr.  Morrow's 
question,  and,  after  a  little  pause,  the  magistrate 
repeated  it. 

Still  Patty  said  nothing;  her  face  sank  lower, 
lower,  lower  upon  her  breast  and  her  hands  slid 
helplessly  to  her  lap ;  then  she  swayed  slowly  from 
one  side  to  the  other.  Tom  was  looking  intently  at 
her,  and  suddenly  he  gave  a  sharp  and  bitter  cry: — 

"  Catch  her ;  she's  falling !  My  God,  you've 
killed  her ! " 

As  he  spoke  she  sank  forward,  and  would  have 
fallen  if  her  father  had  not  caught  her  in  his  arms 
and  so  saved  her.  Then  he  looked  at  Tom  for  the 
first  time  since  he  had  come  into  the  magistrate's 
office. 

"  If  she's  killed,  it's  thy  doings,  Thomas  Granger," 
said  he,  in  a  low,  constrained  voice.  He  stood 
grimly  holding  her,  but  all  around  him  was  confu- 
sion and  tumult.  Mr.  Morrow  pushed  his  chair 
back  hastily  and  arose  and  Dr.  Winterapple  ran  to 
her. 

"  Let  her  lie  on  the  floor  \ "  he  cried,  "  she's 
fainted  !  Some  water,  quick  !  " 

Her  father  laid  her  down  upon  the  floor  and  Dr. 
Winterapple,  snatching  up  a  pitcher  of  water  that 
sat  upon  the  table,  began  sprinkling  her  face  and 
bathing  her  temples.  Mrs.  Bond  kneeled  beside 
her,  chafing  and  slapping  her  hands. 


220  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

Elihu  Penrose  sat  down  in  his  chair  again,  staring 
at  Patty  with  the  same  expressionless  look  that  he 
had  worn  all  along.  After  a  while  her  bosom  rose 
with  a  deep,  convulsive  sigh  and  she  partially 
unclosed  her  eyes,  moving  her  head  from  side  to 
side.  They  lifted  her  up  and  sat  her  in  a  chair, 
and  Mrs.  Bond  fanned  her.  Then  Tom  turned  to 
the  magistrate. 

"  Mr.  Morrow,"  said  he,  "  for  the  love  of  heaven, 
don't  torture  her  any  more;  I'll  tell  everything!" 

"  Take  care,"  said  Mr.  Morrow,  warningly ;  "  I 
tell  you  plainly  that  what  you  say  will  be  taken  in 
evidence  against  you.  Your  case  is  dark  enough — 
don't  make  it  any  blacker." 

"  I  don't  care  how  black  the  case  is  against  me ! 
I'd  rather  have  anything  happen  to  me  than  have 
you  make  that  poor  girl  convict  me  out  of  her  own 
mouth  !  I've  kept  my  lips  shut  too  long  already." 

"  I  have  only  to  say,  take  care  what  you  say ! " 
said  the  magistrate  again. 

"  I'll  take  care  !  You  asked  her  if  there  was  any 
promise  of  marriage  between  us  before  I  sailed 
away  on  this  last  cruise.  There  was  a  promise  of 
marriage  !  I'll  tell  you  farther — " 

"  I'll  have  to  commit  you  from  your  own  lips,  if 
there's  more  such  evidence  to  come." 

"  I  don't  care ! "  said  Tom,  in  a  ringing  voice, "  I'll 
tell  you  that  I  was  half  crazy  after  I  left  her,  for  I 
didn't  know  that  she  was  going  to  be  married  till 
she  told  me  herself.  I  met  Isaac  Naylor  at  the 
very  place  where  he  was  killed,  and  I  did  use 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  221 

violence  to  him ;  but  I  neither  struck  him  nor  killed 
him." 

"That'll  do,"  said  Mr.  Morrow,  "I'll  have  to 
commit  you  for  trial.  I'd  have  had  to  commit  you, 
anyhow,  even  if  you  hadn't  spoken  a  word,  for 
there  was  evidence  enough  for  it.  I'm  sorry  for 
you ;  very  sorry." 

He  dipped  his  pen  in  the  ink  as  he  spoke,  and 
began  writing. 

Tom's  father  laid  his  horny  palm  on  Tom's  hand 
as  he  stood  clutching  the  railing  in  front  of  him. 
"Thee's  done  right  to  speak,  even  if  it  weighs 
against  thee,  Thomas,"  said  he.  The  tears  arose  in 
Tom's  eyes  at  his  father's  words.  All  the  time  he 
had  been  speaking,  he  was  looking  at  Patty.  She 
was  leaning  back  in  her  chair  with  her  lips  apart, 
and  her  eyes  just  showing  through  the  half-closed 
lids.  He  saw  that  she  had  heard  nothing  of  what 
he  had  said,  and  he  was  glad  of  it. 

The  magistrate  reached  across  the  railing,  and 
handed  the  commitment  to  the  constable. 

"  Farewell,  father,"  said  Tom,  "  thee  believes  that 
I'm  innocent;  don't  thee?" 

"  Yes ;  I  do,"  said  his  father,  in  a  husky  voice. 
Then  he  gave  way  to  his  feelings,  as  no  one 
had  ever  seen  him  do  before — he  laid  both  hands 
on  his  son's  shoulders,  and  kissed  him  on  the 
cheek. 

"  Farewell,  John ;  farewell,  William,"  said  he, 
reaching  out  his  hands  to  his  brothers. 

"  Farewell,  Thomas,"   said   John,  clapping   him 


222  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

upon  the  shoulder,  and  trying  to  speak  cheerfully ; 
"thee'll  come  out  all  right;  I  know  thee  will!" 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  Tom. 

"You'll  have  to  come  along,  now,"  said  the 
constable.  Then  they  went  out  again  through  the 
curious  crowd,  Johnson  pushing  a  way  through  the 
people  for  himself  and  his  prisoner.  They  stepped 
into  the  gig,  and  drove  away  to  the  gaol. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

TOM  GRANGER  had  been  in  Eastcaster  gaol 
about  an  hour,  when  Will  Gaines   came  to 
see  him. 

Since  the  click  of  the  lock  that  shut  him  in  his 
cell  as  a  murderer  had  sounded  in  his  ears,  a  calm- 
ness and  a  peace  almost  akin  to  happiness  had 
fallen  upon  his  spirit.  This  may  sound  strange,  but 
there  are  periods,  in  times  of  trouble  and  grief, 
when  the  soul  is  relaxed  from  its  tension  of  pain, 
and  quietude  comes  for  the  time  being.  Tom's 
brain  was  as  clear  as  crystal,  and  he  reviewed  his 
position  with  a  keenness  that  surprised  himself.  He 
saw  that  the  evidence  was  strong  against  him — 
damningly  strong.  As  he  walked  up  and  down 
cell,  thinking  over  all  that  the  witnesses  had  said — 
and  he  seemed  to  remember  every  word — he  felt  as 
though  he  were  shut  in  by  a  wall  of  evidence  that 
he  could  never  hope  to  break  through.  But, 
though  realizing  all  this,  he  had  none  of  that  anxiety 
regarding  it,  that  it  would  have  seemed  natural  for 
him  to  feel ;  it  was  almost  as  though  these  things 
concerned  another  person. 

So  he  walked  up  and  down  his  cell,  going  ovef 

223 


224  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

all  that  had  passed  in  the  squire's  office.  Of  a 
sudden,  a  flaw  in  a  certain  part  of  the  evidence 
struck  him ;  it  was  but  a  small  thing,  but  it  was 
sufficient  to  arouse  a  new  thought  within  him. 
Then  he  stood  quite  still  in  the  middle  of  the  cell, 
looking  down  upon  the  floor,  and  sunk  in  medita- 
tion, for  his  mind  was  busy  in  following  up  point 
after  point  of  this  thought,  as  a  hound  follows  up 
the  scent  of  game  that  it  has  freshly  started. 

How  long  he  stood  there  I  do  not  know,  but  he 
was  aroused  at  last  by  the  opening  of  the  door  of 
his  cell,  and  Will  Gaines  came  in  to  him.  Will  did 
not  say  a  word ;  neither  did  he  look  at  Tom,  but 
he  flung  his  hat  and  cloak  despondingly  upon  the 
table. 

"  Sit  down,  Will,"  said  Tom,  "  take  that  chair ; 
I'll  sit  here  on  the  edge  of  the  cot." 

"  Thank'ee,"  said  Will,  "  I  will  sit  down,  if  you 
don't  mind.  I'm  kind  of  tired  and  fagged  out." 

"  How  did  you  leave  mother  and  Susan  ? "  said 
Tom,  after  a  moment  or  two  of  silence  had  passed. 

"Oh,  pretty  well.  Of  course,  your  mother  is 
very  troubled  at  what  has  occurred,  but,  on  the 
whole,  she  bears  it  better  than  I  could  have  hoped 
for.  She  believes  that  you're  innocent." 

"  She's  right." 

Will  heaved  a  sigh.     "  I  hope  she  is,"  said  he. 

"  Thank'ee,"  said  Tom,  a  little  grimly,  and  then 
the  talk  lapsed  between  them  again. 

"Tom,"  said  Will,  breaking  the  silence,  "your 
father  has  engaged  me  to  act  as  your  attorney  in 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  22$ 

this  matter.  The  Lord  knows,  I  wish  I  had  more 
experience.  I  haven't  always  worked  as  hard  as  I 
might  have  done,  and  now,  when  it  has  fallen  to  my 
lot  to  have  to  defend  the  brother  of  the  girl  that  I 
hope  to  marry  from  a  charge  of  murder,  it  seems 
likely  that  I'll  have  to  pay  a  bitter  price  for  all  the 
time  that  I  have  wasted.  However,  I'll  go  to  Phila- 
delphia to-morrow  and  see  Mr.  Fargio,  and  get  him 
to  take  up  your  case.  I've  come  to  talk  over  the 
matter  with  you,  Tom." 

"  Wait  a  minute,  Will.  I  have  a  question  to  ask 
you,  first.  Do  you  believe  me  guilty?" 

Will  Gaines  looked  fixedly  out  of  the  window  of 
the  cell,  but  he  did  not  answer.  Tom  smiled  a 
little  sadly. 

"  I  think  I  know  how  you  feel  about  it,  without 
the  asking,  Will,"  said  he.  "Now,  do  you  think 
that  I'd  have  a  man  defend  me  who  didn't  believe 
that  I  was  innocent?" 

"  Of  course ;  you'd  have  to  have  some  one  to 
defend  you." 

"  I  don't  see  that.  If  I  really  was  guilty  of  this 
thing,  it  seems  to  me  that  I  ought  to  be  punished 
as  the  law  calls  for.  However,  that  is  neither  here 
nor  there,  for  I  hope  to  make  you  believe  in  my 
innocence  before  you  quit  this  cell." 

"I  wish  to  Heaven  you  could,"  said  Will,  but 
his  tone  was  rather  gloomy  than  hopeful. 

"  Well,  I'll  have  a  try  at  it.  In  the  first  place,  I'll 
have  to  ask  you  whether  you  think  that  I'm  the  kind 
of  man  that  would  murder  another  in  cold  blood?" 

15 


226  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

"  Of  course  I  don't  believe  that,"  said  Will. 

"  You  don't  think  that  I'm  capable  of  lying  in 
wait  for  Isaac  Naylor,  and  deliberately  killing  him 
— not  in  heat  of  passion,  but  with  a  cool  hand?" 

"  Certainly  not.  You  don't  think  that  I'd  believe 
such  a  thing  of  you  as  that,  do  you  ?  " 

"  Then,  if  I  had  killed  him,  I  would  have  been  in 
a  rage,  and  hardly  conscious  of  what  I  was  doing?" 

"  Yes." 

"  In  that  case,  I  think  that  I  can  easily  convince 
you  that  I  didn't  do  it  at  all." 

"  I  wish  you  could,"  said  Will,  again. 

"  Do  you  believe  what  I  told  you  up  home,  about 
meeting  Isaac  Naylor,  and  fighting  with  him  ?  " 

Will  nodded  his  head. 

"  If  I'd  killed  him  at  all,  I  would  have  killed  him 
then,  and  in  that  struggle,  wouldn't  I  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"Very  good.  Now,  Dr.  Winterapple  affirmed 
before  the  magistrate  that  only  one  blow  had  been 
given,  and  that  that  blow  was  immediately  behind 
and  under  the  right  ear." 

Will  was  looking  very  earnestly  at  Tom.  "  I 
heard  his  evidence  before  the  coroner's  jury/'  said 
he. 

"Well,  I'm  right,  ain't  I?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Where  are  your  wits,  man  ?  How  could  I 
strike  him  in  the  back  part  of  the  head,  and  under 
the  right  ear,  if  I  struck  him  while  he  was  fighting 
me  off,  as  he  must  have  been  doing  under  the 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  22? 

circumstances?  Look  here;  suppose  you  and  I 
are  facing  one  another,  so — I  have  a  club  in  my 
hand  to  strike  you  with;  I  couldn't  possibly  reach 
you  to  strike  you  where  Isaac  received  the  blow 
that  finished  him.  If  I  were  to  strike  you  a  blow 
in  a  moment  of  fury,  it  would  be  on  the  top  or  on 
the  left  side  of  the  head.  It  would  be  impossible  to 
strike  you  on  the  right  side,  without  I  were  left 
handed." 

"  Tom,"  said  Will,  "  I  hadn't  thought  of  that— 
what  a  fool  I  have  been." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  you  didn't  think  of  it,"  said 
Tom,  "  but  I  don't  see  that  that  makes  a  fool  of 
you." 

"  You've  made  a  great  point,"  said  Will ;  "  I  see 
now  ;  of  course  you  couldn't." 

"  Wait  a  bit,"  said  Tom,  "  you're  going  too  fast, 
now.  Any  one,  except  a  friend,  who  wanted  to 
believe  in  my  innocence,  would  say  that  Isaac  might 
have  broken  away  from  me,  and  have  run.  If  I'd 
struck  him  while  he  was  running  away,  I'd  have 
given  him  just  such  a  blow  as  killed  him." 

"That's  true." 

"  But,  if  he'd  tried  to  run  away  from  me,  he'd 
have  run  in  the  beaten  track,  and  not  in  the  grass 
and  briars  along  the  roadside.  Now,  he  was  found 
lying  in  the  grass  just  as  he  had  fallen,  and  surely, 
it  isn't  likely  that  if  I  had  struck  him  down  in  the 
middle  of  the  road,  I  would  afterward  have  dragged 
him  into  the  grass.  My  first  instinct,  after  I  had 
done  the  deed,  would  be  to  run  away,  and  leave 


228  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

him  lying  where  he  was.  He  was  sitting  on  the 
' big  stone'  when  he  was  struck,  and  he  fell  forward 
just  where  Ephraim  Whiteley  found  him." 

So  Tom  ended  and  stood  looking  at  Will.  Will 
said  nothing  at  first,  but  at  last  he  spoke. 

"  Tom,"  said  he,  drawing  a  deep  breath,  "  I  am 
more  thankful  to  you  than  I  can  tell;  you  have 
lifted  a  great  load  off  my  mind.  I  don't  think  that 
I  ever  fully  believed  that  you  were  guilty  of  this 
thing,  but,  I  was  afraid — I  was  afraid.  The  evidence 
was  strong  against  you — you  did  meet  Isaac  Naylor, 
according  to  your  own  confession,  and  you  kept 
that  meeting  secret  from  every  one.  You  had  just 
seen  Patty,  and  had  heard  all,  and  I  know  that  you 
must  have  been  half  crazy  with  it.  I  believe  in 
your  innocence  now,  but  the  circumstances  were 
very  strong  against  you." 

"  Yes ;  they  were,  Will,"  said  Tom ;  "  you  had 
good  reason  to  suspect  me;  nevertheless,  I  own 
freely,  I  felt  kind  of  cut  up  when  I  saw  what  you 
thought.  Even  this  that  I've  just  said  to  you, 
wouldn't  go  for  much,  only  that  you  are  ready  and 
anxious  to  believe  me.  It  wouldn't  weigh  a 
moment  with  a  jury." 

"  I'm  not  so  sure  of  that." 

Tom  made  no  answer  to  this  last  speech ;  he  took 
a  turn  or  two  up  and  down  his  cell,  and  then  stopped 
suddenly  in  front  of  the  other. 

"  You  believe  I'm  innocent  now,  do  you  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"Firmly?" 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  229 

"  Firmly." 

"  And  you  won't  think  that  anything  further  that 
I  may  say  to  you'll  be  for  the  purpose  of  throwing 
the  blame  off  my  own  shoulders  and  upon  those  of 
another  man  ?" 

"  No." 

"  Then  I  believe  I  know  who  it  was  that  did  kill 
Isaac  Naylor." 

"  Who  ?"  said  Will,  almost  breathlessly. 

Tom  looked  him  in  the  eyes  for  a  moment  or  two 
before  he  spoke. 

"  Edmund  Moor,"  said  he,  quietly. 

For  a  time  Will  glared  at  him  with  wide-opened 
eyes  and  mouth.  "  Tom,"  said  he,  at  last,  in  a  low 
voice,  "  what  makes  you  say  such  a  thing  as  that  ? 
What  leads  you  to  make  so  horrible  an  accusation 
against  such  a  man  as  Mr.  Moor  ?" 

"  That  horrible  accusation  was  made  against  me." 

"  But  the  circumstances  were  strong  against  you." 

"  I  think  the  circumstances  are  strong  against 
him." 

"  I  don't  see  it." 

Tom  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  table  facing  the 
other.  "  Look  here,  Will;"  said  he,  "  suppose  that 
a  man  bearing  testimony  against  another  accused  of 
murder  should  give  evidence  that  was  faulty  in 
nearly  every  point;  wouldn't  your  first  thought  be 
that  he  knew  more  of  the  real  story  than  he  was 
inclined  to  tell,  and  that  he  was  willing  to  let  the 
accused  suffer  for  it  ?" 

"  Yes." 


230  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

"  That's  what  Mr.  Moor  did  ;  you  didn't  hear  his 
evidence  before  the  magistrate,  but  I  did,  and  what's 
more,  I  remember  every  word  of  it.  This  is  what 
he  said :  That  he  was  riding  out  the  turnpike  for 
pleasure,  and  that  he  saw  Isaac  Naylor  turn  into 
Penrose's  road ;  that  he  stopped  his  horse  to  water 
it  at  the  shallow  beside  the  bridge ;  that  he  saw  me 
run  out  of  the  mill  road  and  up  the  turnpike,  and 
that  he  did  not  know  who  I  was ;  that  he  heard  no 
sound  of  any  kind  to  make  him  suspect  that  some- 
thing was  going  wrong ;  that  he  thought  nothing 
more  about  Isaac  Naylor,  but  went  along  the  turn- 
pike without  looking  up  the  road  where  Isaac  had 
gone.  Now,  Will,  is  there  nothing  that  strikes  you 
as  strange  in  all  that?" 

"  Well,  no  ;  I  can't  see  anything  strange  in  it.  It 
sounds  straightforward  enough  to  me." 

"  It  sounds  straightforward  enough,  Will,  but  it 
won't  bear  looking  into.  When  a  man  invents  a 
story,  it  may  seem  to  be  reasonable  enough,  but, 
you  may  depend  upon  it,  it's  not  sound  in  all  it's 
parts,  and  must  give  way  somewheres.  The  first 
thing  that  struck  me  as  strange  in  this  was  a  small 
matter  enough,  but  it  set  me  to  thinking.  Mr. 
Moor's  horse  was  standing  in  the  shallow  beside 
the  bridge  when  I  ran  out  into  the  turnpike.  Now, 
in  thinking  the  matter  over,  it  occurred  to  me  that, 
if  I  was  out  riding  for  pleasure,  and  my  horse  was 
fresh  from  the  stable,  I  wouldn't  stop  within  three 
quarters  of  a  mile  from  home  to  water  it;  would 
you  ?" 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  231 

Will  was  gazing  fixedly  into  Tom's  eyes ;  he 
made  no  answer  to  the  question,  but  he  shook  his 
head. 

"  That,  as  I  say,  was  the  first  thing  that  struck 
me ;  it  was  a  little  thing,  but  it  set  me  athinking, 
and  I  began  to  wonder  why  Mr.  Moor  should  have 
stopped  his  horse.  The  day  wasn't  warm  enough 
to  make  it  any  pleasure  to  drive  through  a  shallow ; 
one  wouldn't  think  of  doing  such  a  thing  on  a  cool 
autumn  day.  So  I  began  turning  things  over  and 
over  in  my  mind  and,  after  a  while,  the  whole  story 
went  to  pieces,  like  a  card  house  when  you  take 
away  one  of  the  cards.  Now,  I  think  I  can  prove 
to  you  from  Mr.  Moor's  own  evidence  before  the 
magistrate,  that  he  was  within  three  hundred  yards 
of  Isaac  Naylor  and  me  during  the  whole  time  that 
we  were  together,  and  that  he  saw  all  that  passed 
between  us.  Mr.  Moor  said  that  he  saw  Isaac  Nay- 
lor turn  into  the  mill  road.  To  do  that,  he  must 
have  been  pretty  well  down  the  hill  or  he  couldn't 
have  seen  him  for  the  trees ;  he  couldn't  have  been 
over  five  hundred  yards  away  from  him,  could  he  ?  " 

Will  shook  his  head. 

"  Now,  Isaac  Naylor  walked  about  two  or  three 
hundred  yards  down  the  mill  road  before  he  met 
me,  and  there's  where  he  was  found  the  next 
morning  —  killed.  While  he  walked  that  three 
hundred  yards,  Mr.  Moor,  on  horseback,  could 
easily  have  covered  the  five  hundred  yards  between 
the  spot  from  where  he  saw  him  to  the  place  where 
the  mill  road  opens  into  the  turnpike,  so  that  h$ 


232  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

could  have  come  up  to  the  opening  of  the  road  just 
about  the  time  that  Isaac  Naylor  met  me.  Now," 
said  Tom,  patting  the  edge  of  the  table  upon  which 
he  was  sitting  to  give  force  to  that  which  he  was 
saying,  "  is  it  reasonable  that  I  could  have  talked 
to  Isaac  Naylor,  have  fought  with  him  and  have 
killed  him,  and  then  have  run  the  three  hundred 
yards  to  the  turnpike  while  Mr.  Moor  sat  on  his  horse 
watering  it  at  the  shallow  ?  Is  it  reasonable,  say  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Will,  "it's  not."  He  seemed  half 
dazed  with  that  which  Tom  was  telling  him,  but 
Tom  saw  that  he  was  following  him,  and  that  was 
all  that  he  wanted. 

"  Now,  here's  another  point.  According  to  this, 
he  was  within  three  hundred  yards  of  the  scene  of 
the  murder  at  the  very  time  that  the  murder  was 
being  done,  and  yet,  by  his  evidence,  he  didn't  hear 
a  single  sound.  Now,  Isaac  Naylor  called  for  help 
while  I  was  fighting  with  him — and  called  twice, 
and  yet  Mr.  Moor,  though  it  is  clear  that  he  was 
so  near  to  us,  heard  nothing  of  it." 

Will  rose  from  his  chair  and  began  walking 
excitedly  up  and  down  the  room.  Tom  watched 
him  for  a  while  in  silence.  "  Have  I  made  my 
meaning  clear  to  you  ?  "  said  he,  at  last. 

"  Clear  ?  Yes — yes ;  of  course  you've  made  it 
clear." 

"  I've  more  to  say  yet,"  said  Tom,  "  and  when 
you'll  sit  down  and  listen  coolly,  I'll  go  on." 

Then  Will  sat  down  in  his  chair  again  without  a 
word. 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  233 

"  Are  you  ready  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"Now,  Mr.  Moor  said  that  when  he  had  done 
watering  his  horse,  he  rode  on  up  the  turnpike. 
The  horse  wasn't  drinking  when  I  saw  it.  I  ran  on 
up  the  road,  but  I  stopped  before  I  got  to  the  crest 
of  the  hill,  for  my  breath  gave  out.  I  walked  the 
rest  of  the  way,  which  was  about  half  a  mile,  to  the 
homestead.  Now,  I  take  it,  a  man  on  horseback 
could  have  passed  me,  even  if  I'd  run  all  the  way. 
But  Mr.  Moor  didn't  pass  me,  and  there  was  no 
sign  of  him  when  I  turned  into  the  lane;  so  he  did 
not  ride  on  up  the  pike  as  he  said  he  did.  Neither 
did  he  turn  back  home,  for  no  man  would  turn 
back  from  a  pleasure  ride  after  he  had  gone  only 
three  quarters  of  a  mile.  Will,  how  many  roads 
are  there  between  Stonybrook  bridge  and  father's 
house  ?  " 

"  Only  one." 

"And  that  is—" 

"  Penrose's  road." 

"  Will,"  said  Tom,  leaning  forward,  looking  into 
the  other's  eyes  and  speaking  very  slowly,  "  when 
I  left  Edmund  Moor  he  rode  up  Penrose's  road." 

"  Tom !  Tom  !  "  cried  Will  Gaines,  springing  to 
his  feet,  "  this  is  incredible  !  " 

"  Incredible  !     Doesn't  it  sound  reasonable  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  only  too  reasonable ! "  Then  he  began 
walking  up  and  down.  Suddenly  he  stopped  in 
front  of  Tom.  "  Who  would  have  thought,"  said 
he,  "  that  such  a  quiet,  dull-seeming  fellow  as  you, 


234  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

Tom  Granger,  would  have  thought  out  all  this  for 
yourself!  " 

"  I  don't  see  anything  wonderful  in  my  thinking 
the  matter  out,  considering  that  my  own  life  and  the 
happiness  of  all  belonging  to  me  are  concerned  in 
my  thinking.  But,  I  haven't  done  yet  According 
to  my  certain  knowledge,  Mr.  Moor  did  not  ride  up 
the  turnpike;  therefore  he  must  have  turned  up 
Penrose's  road,  for  there  was  no  other.  Now,  if  I'd 
killed  Isaac  Naylor,  he'd  found  him  lying  there, 
even  if  he'd  heard  no  sound  to  make  him  suspect 
anything.  If  he'd  found  Isaac  Naylor  alive  and 
left  him  alive,  one  word  from  him  would  have  been 
enough  to  have  cleared  me.  He  said  no  word, 
therefore  he  wished  the  blame  to  rest  upon  me ;  he 
wished  the  blame  to  rest  upon  me,  therefore  he  had 
something  that  he  wished  to  hide.  Without  he  was 
concerned  in  the  affair  he  would  want  to  hide 
nothing.  If  he  was  concerned  in  it,  he  was  con- 
cerned in  it  alone,  for  there  was  no  one  but  him 
near  enough  to  hear  Isaac  call  for  help ;  if  there 
had  been  they  would  have  come.  Yesterday  after- 
noon, when  I  came  to  Eastcaster  in  the  stage,  I  saw 
Mr.  Moor  and  Isaac  Naylor  looking  out  of  Moor's 
office  window ;  if  nothing  had  happened  since,  I 
don't  know  that  I  would  have  thought  anything  of 
it,  but,  in  looking  back  now,  I  tell  you  that  there 
was  something  wrong  between  them ;  there  was  a 
look  about  them — the  way  in  which  they  were 
standing,  the  expression  of  their  faces,  that  makes 
me  feel  that  I  am  right  in  what  I  say.  When  I  ran 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  235 

out  into  the  road  after  leaving  Isaac  Naylor,  Mr. 
Moor's  face  was  as  white  as  wax,  now — "  here 
Tom  paused  abruptly  and  began  walking  restlessly 
up  and  down  the  cell.  After  a  while  he  stopped 
and  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  He  looked 
out  of  the  window  and  not  at  Will  when  he  spoke 
again. 

"  Will,"  said  he,  solemnly,  "  I  don't  know  what 
has  come  over  me ;  I  don't  know  whether  it's  the 
state  of  mind  that  I'm  in  or  not,  but  I  can  see  the 
way  that  Isaac  Naylor  was  killed — at  least,  I  think  I 
can — as  clearly  as  though  I  had  second  sight.  God 
forgive  me  if  I'm  wrong,  but  this  is  how  I  see  it  in 
my  mind's  eye.  I  don't  know  why  Mr.  Moor  was 
riding  along  the  turnpike  just  at  that  time,  but  I 
believe  that  it  was  to  see  and  speak  to  Isaac  Naylor 
again.  However  that  may  be,  he  was  riding  along 
the  pike,  and  came  to  the  end  of  the  mill  road  where 
it  opens  upon  the  highway.  There  he  saw  Isaac 
talking  to  me  and  he  stopped,  either  because  what 
he  wanted  to  say  to  Isaac  was  to  be  said  in  private, 
or  because  he  knew  me  and  wanted  to  see  what 
would  come  of  our  talk.  He  saw  me  attack  Isaac 
and  heard  him  call  for  help,  but  he  didn't  come  to 
him  because  he'd  hoped  I'd  kill  him.  That  was 
why  he  was  so  white  when  I  saw  him  a  minute  or 
two  later.  When  he  saw  me  leave  Isaac  Naylor  and 
run  up  the  road,  be  backed  his  horse  into  the  water 
so  as  to  make  it  seem  as  though  he  was  just  giving 
it  a  drink.  I  don't  believe  that  he  would  have  any 
settled  plan  for  doing  this ;  it  would  be  his  instinct 


236  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

to  do  it.  When  he  saw  that  Isaac  was  about  to 
escape  after  all,  he  rode  up  to  where  he  was  sitting 
on  the  rock.  Maybe  they  exchanged  a  few  words ; 
maybe  he  just  picked  up  the  stake  and  struck 
him  where  he  sat,  half  dazed.  I  guess  his  mind 
must  have  been  all  in  a  toss  and  ferment  at  what 
he  had  seen  me  about  to  do,  and  the  thought 
flashed  through  him,  why  shouldn't  he  finish  what 
he  had  seen  me  begin  ?  I  would  be  the  one  sus- 
pected, for  all  the  circumstances  would  point  to  me, 
and  I  had  come  within  a  hair's  breadth  of  doing  the 
deed  myself.  After  he  had  struck  Isaac  and  saw 
him  lying  in  the  grass,  he  realized  what  he  had 
done,  then  he  turned  and  mounted  his  horse  and 
rode  away.  I  think  that  this  is  so,  because  there 
was  only  one  blow  given,  and  Dr.  Winterapple  said 
in  his  evidence  that  he  didn't  believe  that  it  killed 
him  right  away ;  if  Moor  had  coolly  intended  to 
kill  Isaac,  he  would  have  made  sure  of  it.  This  is 
my  notion  of  what  happened ;  of  course,  I  may  be 
mistaken  in  it." 

Tom  turned  as  he  ended,  and  looked  at  Will ;  the 
other  was  gazing  intently  at  him. 

At  last  Will  spoke :  "  I — I  follow  your  thoughts, 
Tom.  It  all  sounds  reasonable  enough,  but  I  must 
have  time  to  think  it  over.  I — I  can't  believe  it, 
somehow." 

"  I  don't  wonder  at  that,"  said  Tom,  "  beside,  it's 
only  my  own  notion  of  it.  Some  one  did  kill  Isaac 
Naylor,  and  it  is  clear  that  he  was  killed  soon  after 
I  left  him,  for  he  never  got  to  Elihu  Penrose's 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  237 

house,  and  he  was  found  dead  just  where  I  left  him. 
It  only  remains  now  to  find  out  who  it  was.  In  my 
opinion,  the  most  likely  one  to  have  done  it  was 
Mr.  Moor.  We  must  set  about  finding  out  several 
things,  and  that  I  depend  on  your  doing." 

"  I'll  do  all  that  I  can,"  said  Will. 

"  Very  well,  then;  we'll  throw  aside  all  that  I've 
said,  as  to  my  notion  of  how  it  was  done,  and  set  to 
work,  with  the  point  given  that  Mr.  Moor  might 
have  been  the  one  that  did  the  murder.  The  first 
thing  to  find  out,  is  whether  he  had  cause  for  the 
act.  If  there  was  no  cause,  of  course,  everything 
falls  to  the  ground.  Who  is  Isaac  Naylor's  lawyer?  " 

"  White  &  Tenny,  I  think." 

"  Then  the  first  thing  to  find,  is  whether  Mr. 
Moor  was  tangled  in  some  business  trouble  with 
Isaac;  can  you  do  that?" 

"I  don't  know;  I'll  try." 

"  The  next  thing  to  find  out,  is  whether  Mr.  Moor 
really  was  sick  yesterday  morning.  If  he  was  not 
sick,  he  didn't  take  a  ride  for  his  health,  and  must 
have  taken  it  on  business.  If  he  had  any  business, 
it  concerned  Isaac  Naylor,  for  he  followed  Isaac, 
and  went  no  where  else,  according  to  my  notion. 
The  third  thing  to  do,  is  to  find  what  time  he  got 
back  home  yesterday  afternoon,  and  what  he  did 
after  he  came  home.  Each  one  of  these  things 
hangs  on  the  other." 

Will  sat  in  silence  for  a  long  time.  At  last  he 
stood  up.  "Torn,"  said  he,  and  his  tones  were 
serious,  almost  solemn,  "  as  I  said  before,  all  this  is 


238  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

reasonable,  and  is  wonderfully  thought  out.  I  won't 
say  off-hand  that  I  think  Mr.  Moor  did  kill  Isaac 
Naylor,  but  I'll  say  this, — I  think  he  might  have 
done  it.  I'll  see  what  I  can  find  out  from  White 
&  Tenny — that  I  can  manage  myself.  As  to  Mr. 
Moor's  private  movements,  we'll  have  to  put  some 
one  on  the  track  of  them  that's  used  to  hunting  up 
evidence.  When  I  was  studying  law  with  Mr. 
Fargio,  in  Philadelphia,  he  had  a  fellow  named 
Daly,  whom  he  employed  in  the  case  of  Smithers 
vs.  Black.  He's  a  clever  hand  at  ferreting  out  this 
kind  of  evidence,  and  I'll  get  him  to  run  down  here 
and  see  what  he  can  make  out  of  this.  The  only 
trouble  with  him,  is  that  he  drinks,  but  I  guess  I 
can  contrive  to  keep  him  sober  till  we've  found  out 
all  we  want  to  know.  And  now  I'll  have  to  leave 
you,  Tom,  for  I  must  set  about  my  part  of  the 
business.  Though  it's  hard  for  me  to  believe  that 
Mr.  Moor  was  concerned  in  this — I'll  say  this,  I 
don't  believe  that  you  did  it ;  you've  convinced  me 
that  far.  I'll  say,  too,  that  your  reasoning  against 
Moor  is  very  strong." 

"  If  you'll  wait  a  minute,  Will,  I'll  drop  a  line  to 
Patty,  and  get  you  to  take  it  to  her,"  said  Tom.  "  Of 
course,  you'll  keep  secret  all  that's  been  said  be- 
tween us.  You  may  tell  the  home  folks,  but  don't 
let  it  go  any  further." 

"  Of  course,  I  won't" 

Then,  while  Will  walked  up  and  down  the  floor 
of  the  cell,  Tom  sat  down  and  wrote  his  letter  to 
Patty.  He  represented  his  case  very  much  as  he 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  239 

had  done  to  Will  Gaines,  and  spoke  cheerfully  and 
hopefully  of  his  position. 

He  did  not  tell  her  anything  about  Mr.  Moor; 
he  felt  that  it  would  be  better  not  to  do  so,  for  her 
father  might  chance  to  see  the  letter,  and  it  behooved 
them  to  keep  the  matter  as  quiet  as  possible. 

Then  he  folded  the  letter  and  gave  it  to  Will, 
who  left  the  cell  without  a  word,  but  with  a  firm 
grip  of  the  hand  at  parting. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

IT  was  not  until  the  next  day  at  noon  that  Will 
Gaines  came  to  see  Tom  again;  in  the  mean- 
time, Tom's  father  and  his  brother  John  had  visited 
him.  They  had  a  long  talk  together,  and,  when 
they  left,  they  seemed  hopeful,  and  even  cheerful. 
Will  Gaines  had  told  them  of  the  suspicion  that 
Tom  held  against  Mr.  Moor.  Tom  repeated  to  them 
what  he  had  said  the  day  before,  and  it  seemed  to 
them  to  be  almost  unanswerable. 

When  Will  came  in  about  noon,  Tom  saw,  at 
once,  that  he  was  very  much  excited.  He  flung 
himself  down  in  the  chair,  and  mopped  his  forehead 
with  his  handkerchief. 

"What's  the  matter,  Will?"  said  he,  after  waiting 
for  a  while,  and  seeing  that  there  was  no  immediate 
prospect  of  his  friend  breaking  the  silence. 

"Tom,"  burst  out  Will,  "if  everything  that 
you've  thought  out  in  this  case  is  as  true  as  that 
which  I  have  just  heard,  I'll  acknowledge  that 
you  are  a  most  wonderful  reasoner." 

"  What  have  you  learned  ?" 

"I've  just  seen  Sheriff  Mathers." 

"  Well  ?" 
240 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  241 

"  Well,  to  begin  at  the  beginning,  I  went  down  to 
White  &  Tenny's  office  yesterday,  but  didn't  find 
either  of  them  in.  Their  clerk  was  there,  and  said 
that  they  wouldn't  be  back  till  some  time  to-day.  I 
was  just  going  down  to  their  office  a  little  while 
ago,  when  I  met  Sheriff  Mathers  in  front  of  the 
Crown  and  Angel.  He  stopped  me  and  began 
asking  me  about  your  case ;  or  rather  about  Isaac 
Naylor's  death.  I  was  just  on  the  point  of  leaving 
him,  when  he  dropped  out  that  it  was  a  lucky  thing 
for  some  one  in  this  town,  that  Isaac  died  when  he 
did.  You  may  guess  how  this  caught  my  ear,  for 
there  was  a  deal  of  meaning  in  the  sheriff's  tone.  I 
began  inquiring  about  the  matter,  but  he  didn't 
give  me  very  much  satisfaction;  he  said  that  this 
concerned  another  party  entirely,  and  hadn't  any- 
thing to  do  with  the  murder. 

"  'Oh  !  it's  about  Edmund  Moor,  is  it?'  said  I,  as 
easily  as  I  could  speak. 

" '  How  did  you  know  that  ?'  said  he ;  '  What  do 
you  know  about  the  business  ?' 

"  Well,  to  make  a  long  story  short,  after  talking 
to  him  a  good  while,  I  found  that  Isaac  Naylor  had 
held  a  judgment  against  Moor  (for  how  much  I 
don't  know),  and  was  about  to  put  the  sheriff  on 
him.  The  judgment  was  to  be  lodged  in  the 
sheriff's  hands  the  very  day  that  Isaac  was  killed. 
What  do  you  think  of  that,  Tom  ?" 

There  was  silence  for  some  time ;  Tom's  heart 
was  thumping  against  his  ribs  so  that  he  could 
hardly  breathe.  However,  he  spoke  as  quietly  as 

16 


242  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

he  could.  "  I  fancied  that  there  must  be  something 
of  the  kind,"  said  he. 

Will  eyed  him  for  a  moment  or  two,  "  You 
seem  to  take  it  monstrously  cool,"  said  he,  at  last. 

Tom  made  no  answer  to  this  speech  ;  after  a  while 
he  asked  Will  when  he  was  going  to  send  for  the 
man  Daly,  of  whom  he  had  spoken  the  day  before. 

"  I  have  sent  for  him,"  said  Will.  "  I  wrote  a 
note  to  Mr.  Fargio  yesterday,  and  urged  haste  in  it. 
I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  Daly  would  be  here  in 
to-morrow's  stage." 

Daly  did  come  in  the  stage  the  next  afternoon. 
It  was  about  five  o'clock  when  the  turnkey  brought 
a  man  to  Tom's  cell  whom  he  had  never  seen 
before.  "  Mr.  Gaines  told  me  to  bring  you  this 
letter,"  said  the  man,  handing  Tom  a  note  as  he 
spoke ;  then  Tom  knew  that  it  was  Daly. 

"Can't  you  leave  us  a  little  while?"  said  Tom  to 
the  turnkey. 

Will's  note  ran  thus : 

"  PEAR  TOM  : 

"  This  is  Daly  of  whom  I  spoke  to  you  the  other  day. 
I  thought  better  to  introduce  you  to  him  thus  than  to  come 
with  him  myself.  You  had  better  tell  him  everything  con- 
cerning the  case,  just  as  you  told  me.  I  think  you  may  trust 
him.  W.  W.  GAINES." 

Tom  looked  at  Daly  as  he  folded  Will's  note.  I 
cannot  say  that  he  took  very  much  fancy  to  the 
man.  He  was  short,  rather  fat  and  bow-legged. 
He  had  a  large,  heavy  face,  with  a  bluish  growth 
gf  beard  about  the  lips  and  cliin  and  cheeks,  His 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES  243 

head  sat  close  upon  his  shoulders,  and  was  covered 
with  a  mat  of  close-cropped  hair.  He  had  a  sly 
hang-dog  look,  and  anything  but  a  pleasant  expres- 
sion. So  Tom,  sitting  on  the  edge  of  the  table 
where  he  had  been  reading  Will's  note,  looked  at 
Daly,  and  Daly  stood  returning  the  look  out  of  the 
corners  of  his  eyes. 

"  So  you're  John  Daly,  are  you  ?"  said  Tom,  at  last. 

"  Yes." 

"  Mr.  Gaines  says,  in  this  note,  that  I  may  tell  you 
everything." 

"  Well,  I  think  you'd  better." 

"  Sit  down." 

"  Thank'ee ;  got  a  spitpatoon  here  ?" 

"  There's  one." 

After  using  the  spittoon,  the  fellow  pushed  it  over 
beside  the  chair  with  his  foot.  Then  he  sat  down 
comfortably.  "  Fire  away,"  said  he. 

"  In  the  first  place,"  said  Tom,  "  I'll  show  you,  as 
I  did  Mr.  Gaines,  why,  in  my  opinion,  I  couldn't 
have  killed  this  man."  Then  he  ran  over  the 
evidence  just  as  I  have  already  done,  showing,  by 
the  position  of  the  blow,  that  he  could  not  have 
given  it.  Daly  listened  in  silence,  every  now  and 
then  nodding  his  head;  but  he  did  not  speak  a 
word  until  Tom  had  ended.  Then  he  looked  up. 

"  Very  true — very  true,  indeed,"  said  he.  "  It 
satisfies  me  an'  your  other  friends ;  but  it  won't  go 
down  with  a  jury,  just  now.  Reckon  you  ha'n't 
seen  the  papers  lately  ?  " 

"  No." 


244  WITHIN  THE  CAPES 

Daly  nodded  his  head;  "  I  guess  your  folks  ha' 
kept  'em  from  you,"  he  said ;  "  there's  nasty  tales 
going  about  in  'em  just  now — tales  about  you  an' 
your  mate  deserting  a  ship,  an'  leaving  the  captain 
and  the  crew  to  drown  in  her." 

"  But,"  said  Tom,  "  I  didn't  leave  the  ship  with 
my  own  free  will — I  was  taken  off  by  force." 

"That  may  all  be  very  true;  I  don't  question 
your  word  at  all — only  this  is  the  report  of  the 
committee  who  examined  you  an'  your  friend.  You 
ought  to  ha'  told  'em  how  you  were  taken  off;  you 
had  the  chance." 

"  But  I  wasn't  going  to  tell  ugly  things  against 
my  mate,  when  he  wouldn't  tell  of  them  himself. " 

"  That's  all  very  fine,  but  he  ha'n't  in  prison  for 
murder." 

"  I  don't  see  what  this  has  to  do  with  the  matter, 
anyhow." 

"Don't  you?  Well,  I'll  tell  you.  When  your  case 
is  before  the  jury,  the  prosecuting  attorney'll  tell 
'em  that  any  man  who'ld  run  away  from  his  captain 
and  his  shipmates,  and  leave- 'em  to  drown,  wouldn't 
hesitate  to  strike  a  man  from  behind.  Of  course,  it 
isn't  so,  but  the  jury'll  believe  it  all  the  same. " 

Tom  was  silent ;  he  saw  the  weight  of  what  the 
man  said,  and  his  heart  sank  within  him  Daly  sat, 
meditatively,  chewing  his  tobacco.  At  last,  after 
expectorating  copiously,  he  broke  the  silence. 

"  Never  mind,  sir,"  said  he;  "I  don't  believe  that 
you  killed  that  feller;  your  argument's  good  enough 
for  me.  I  know  too  much  about  this  kind  o'  thing 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  245 

to  believe  that  you're  the  sort  of  man  to  strike 
another  from  behind.  Mr.  Gaines  tells  me  that 
you're  on  the  track  of  the  man  who  did  do  it — let's 
have  your  idee." 

Then  Tom  told  of  all  the  circumstances  that  led 
him  to  suspect  Mr.  Moor,  and  once  more  Daly 
listened  to  him  without  a  word.  He  sat  with  his 
elbows  on  his  knees ;  he  had  taken  a  dirty  handker- 
chief out  of  his  hat,  and  was  alternately  crushing  it 
together  and  unfolding  it  in  his  hands.  When  Tom 
had  ended,  he  looked  up  at  him  from  under  his  brows. 

"  You've  thought  all  that  out  in  a  mighty  derned 
clever  style,"  said  he.  "  It's  all  as  true  as  gospil. 
I  believe  you're  right,  and  that  this  man  Moor  did 
kill  the  other  feller." 

"  I  couldn't  make  Mr.  Gaines  believe  it  as  you 
do,"  said  Tom. 

"  Of  course,  you  couldn't.  Mr.  Gaines  knows 
this  Moor,  and  always  has  known  him.  It's  hard 
to  believe  that  a  man  that  you've  seen  under  your 
eye  every  day  would  do  a  thing  like  this.  I 
don't  know  anything  about  him,  and  I  can  look  at 
it  reasonable  like.  I  believe  he  did  do  it  The 
next  thing  is  to  ketch  him,  and  that  ain't  goin'  to 
be  so  easy,  neither,  for,  without  I'm  much  mistook, 
he's  as  sharp  as  a  steel  trap.  Never  mind,  he'll 
have  to  get  up  early  in  the  morning  if  he's  going 
to  get  ahead  of  '  Fatty '  Daly,  I  can  tell  you." 

After  this  he  took  up  his  hat  and  quitted  the  gaol, 
and  Tom  was  left  alone  again. 

Two  or  three  days  passed  before  there  were  any 


246  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

more  developments.  Will  kept  Tom  well  posted 
as  to  the  agent's  movements,  but  nothing  of  any 
note  happened. 

The  first  thing  that  Daly  did  was  to  become 
acquainted  with  Mr.  Moor's  help,  who,  being  rather 
old  and  not  over-handsome,  was  glad  for  any  young 
man  to  come  courting  her — even  such  an  one  as 
Daly.  However,  the  agent  was  cautious,  and  noth- 
ing was  found  out  for  two  or  three  days. 

On  the  morning  of  the  third  day  after  Daly  had 
come  to  Eastcaster,  Will  came  into  Tom's  cell  in  a 
great  state  of  hurry  and  excitement.  Daly  had 
found  something  that  he  thought  was  of  great 
moment. 

"  I  want  you  to  tell  me  your  idea  of  the  matter 
before  I  give  you  Daly's,"  said  he.  "  The  fellow 
seems  to  have  a  great  notion  of  your  ability  and 
told  me  to  find  what  your  opinion  was  and  see 
whether  his  agreed  with  it."  Then  he  handed  Tom 
a  sheet  or  two  of  paper,  covered  with  a  crooked, 
blotted  scrawl.  It  was  Daly's  report ;  it  ran  thus  : 

"Last  evening  went  to  Mr.  Moor's  house  to  see  his 
servant  girl  Susan.  Up  to  that  time  had  not  said  anything 
about  murder,  but  then  began  to  talk  about  it.  Began  by 
asking  how  Mr.  Moor  was,  and  said  that  I  was  sorry  to 
hear  he  was  sick.  Girl  said  that  he  had  not  been  well  for 
three  or  four  days.  She  said  that  he  was  very  sick  the 
morning  that  he  was  at  squire's  office,  and  that  he  came 
home  and  laid  down  on  the  sofa  that  morning  and  laid  there 
almost  all  day.  Asked  her  if  he  had  been  sick  the  day  before, 
and  she  said  not  until  evening  when  he  came  home  sick  from 
&  ride  that  he  took.  Began  questioning  her  about  this  and 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  247 

got  all  from  her  without  her  suspecting  anything,  I  think. 
Said  that  he  came  home  after  dark  and  went  straight  to  his 
room.  Heard  him  walking  up  and  down  for  some  time. 
Supper  was  ready  before  he  came  in.  He  came  in  at  half- 
past  six,  for  she  looked  at  clock  when  she  heard  him  open 
front  door.  Came  down  stairs  in  a  half  an  hour,  and  she 
went  out  to  tell  him  that  supper  was  ready.  He  spoke 
sharply  to  her,  and  said  that  he  did  not  want  any  supper. 
He  turned  at  the  door  and  spoke  more  quietly.  Said,  on 
second  thoughts,  that  she  might  save  supper  for  him.  He 
had  a  carpet-bag  in  his  hand  and  a  hat  on  at  the  time.  He 
said  that  there  were  papers  in  the  carpet-bag,  and  that  he 
was  going  to  see  a  Mr.  Henry  Sharpley  on  business.  He 
came  back  in  half  an  hour,  with  mud  on  his  shoes,  which 
left  tracks  in  the  entry.  He  went  out  just  about  seven 
o'clock,  and  came  back  at  half-past  seven.  Questioned 
servant  girl  closely  as  dared  as  to  time.  Said  that  she 
noticed  time,  because  she  was  keeping  supper  waiting  for 
Mr.  Moor.  When  he  came  in,  drank  two  cups  of  coffee,  but 
did  not  touch  any  supper." 

Such  was  Daly's  report.  After  Tom  had  read  it, 
he  folded  it  up,  and  sat  for  a  while  thinking  deeply. 
Presently  he  looked  at  Will.  "  Will,"  said  he,  "  I 
believe  I  know  what  Daly  thinks." 

"What?" 

"  That  Mr.  Moor  had  blood  on  his  clothes,  and 
went  out  to  hide  them." 

"That's  just  what  he  does  think,  Tom." 

"  And  I  believe  that  he's  right ;  Mr.  Moor  cer- 
tainly had  something  to  hide,  and  it  could  have 
been  nothing,  without  it  was  evidence.  All  that 
Daly  gathered  from  the  servant  girl  goes  to  show 
that  there  was  something  of  the  kind.  I  believe 
that  Mr.  Moor  would  have  gone  straight  home  after 


248  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

he  had  done  the  deed,  if  he  had  dared  to  do  so,  and 
he  would  have  dared,  without  he  had  some  signs  of 
what  he  had  done  upon  him.  What  signs  of  the 
deed  could  he  have  had  about  him,  if  it  was  not 
blood  spattered  on  his  clothes  ?  Now,  if  we  can 
find  that  he  has  hidden  any  of  his  clothes  in  some 
out-of-the-way  place,  we'll  have  a  great  point  gained, 
won't  we?" 

"  We  will,  indeed." 

"Has  Daly  any  notion  of  where  they  were 
hidden?" 

"  No." 

"  Have  you  ?" 

"  Not  I." 

"  What's  Daly  going  to  do  about  it  ?" 

"  His  idea  is  to  hunt  in  all  the  likely  places  near 
at  hand  on  the  chance  of  finding  them.  He  says 
that  they  can't  be  far  away,  because  Mr.  Moor  was 
such  a  short  time  gone ;  only  half  an  hour." 

"  That's  very  true,  but,  without  he  has  something 
to  guide  him  in  his  search,  it'll  be  like  hunting  for 
a  needle  in  a  hay-stack." 

"  Have  you  any  notion  about  it,  Tom  ?" 

"  Not  yet,"  said  Tom ;  "  let  me  think."  He  buried 
his  face  in  his  hands,  and  sat  for  a  long  time  without 
moving.  At  last,  he  opened  the  note  that  Daly  had 
sent  him,  and  looked  at  it  again.  Presently  he 
spoke : 

"  Now,  Will,  let's  start  from  the  time  that  he  was 
supposed  to  have  struck  the  blow,  and  let's  trace 
him  as  well  as  we  can.  After  he  had  struck  Isaac 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  249 

down,  and  saw  that  he  had  killed  him,  and  also  saw 
that  there  were  signs  upon  him  what  might  point  to 
his  having  done  the  deed,  he  wouldn't  go  out  either 
into  the  turnpike  or  the  mill  road,  for  he  would  be 
afraid  of  some  one  meeting  him.  He  would  go 
into  the  woods,  and  would  hide  there  until  dark. 
He  must  have  suffered  horribly  in  the  woods  at 
night,  with  the  thought  of  what  he  had  done  fresh 
upon  his  heart — of  course,  it  would  unfit  him  for 
any  cool  and  collected  thinking,  and  therefore  we 
have  an  advantage  over  him.  At  last  he  comes 
home.  Try  to  put  yourself  in  his  place,  and 
conceive  of  the  terrible  state  of  mind  that  he  must 
have  been  in  at  the  time.  There  would  be  blood 
upon  his  clothes,  and  his  first  thought  would  be  to 
get  rid  of  them  as  soon  as  possible.  If  he  had 
been  cool,  he  would  have  waited  until  the  next  day, 
but  he  did  not  think  of  any  such  thing  at  the  time. 
'  Where  shall  I  hide  them  ? '  he  would  say  to  him- 
self; '  not  at  home,  not  about  the  house,  for  who 
knows  how  soon  they  may  be  found?'  Then  he 
would  go  over  a  number  of  places  in  his  mind.  He 
would  not  be  collected  enough  to  think  of  some 
out-of-the-way  spot;  he  would  think  of  some  place 
that  he  had  seen  before,  and  that  would  be  re- 
markable enough  for  him  N  to  remember  it,  even  at 
such  a  moment.  Now,  let's  see  what  he  did, 
according  to  that  which  the  servant  girl  told  Daly. 
He  doesn't  see  the  servant  girl  wrhen  he  first  comes 
into  the  house,  but,  after  he  had  stuffed  his  clothes 
into  a  carpet-bag,  and  had  come  down  stairs  again, 


250  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

he  meets  her  face  to  face,  and  shows  very  plainly 
how  much  the  sight  of  her  has  disturbed  him.  He 
tells  her  sharply  enough  for  her  to  remember  that 
he  don't  want  any  supper.  The  next  minute  the 
thought  comes  to  him  that  she'll  think  his  actions 
very  strange,  so  he  turns  around  and  gives  her  an 
explanation  of  his  movements,  such  as  he  would 
never  think  of  doing  in  an  ordinary  case.  He  tells 
her  that  he  is  going  to  Henry  Sharpley's,  on  busi- 
ness. Without  I'm  mistaken,  he  made  a  blunder 
there  that  will  give  help  to  us.  So  far  we  can  follow 
him  tolerably  well.  Now,  we  have  a  gape  of  half 
an  hour,  and  that  gape  we've  got  to  fill  up." 

"That's  just  it,"  said  Will. 

"  We'll  leave  that  now,  and  see  what  he  did  after 
he  came  home.  The  girl  was  a  very  careful  house- 
keeper, for  she  noticed  that  he  had  mud  on  his 
shoes,  and  that  he  left  tracks  in  the  house.  She 
wouldn't  have  noticed  that  without  she  had  an  eye 
to  keeping  things  clean.  He  told  her  to  save 
supper  for  him,  and  yet  he  ate  nothing.  That,  I 
think,  is  all  that  we  really  know." 

"  That's  all." 

"  And  now,  to  fill  up  the  gape  of  half  an  hour — 
Have  you  had  any  rain  lately?" 

"Well — let  me  see.  No;  there's  been  none  for 
over  a  week." 

"  Well,  that's  a  great  point  gained,  for  the  roads 
must  be  very  dusty." 

"  They  are." 

"  Then,  how  could  Mr.  Moor  have  my,d  on  his 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  251 

shoes  in  going  to  Henry  Sharpley's  house  and  back 
again  ?  His  shoes  might  have  been  dusty,  but  they 
couldn't  have  been  muddy.  He  must  have  been  in 
some  wet  or  marshy  place  to  get  mud  on  him." 

"  That's  so." 

"  Well,  that's  one  point  gained.  Now,  let's  see 
how  much  the  servant  girl  can  be  relied  upon  as  to 
the  length  of  time  that  he  was  gone.  She  said  that 
he  left  at  seven  o'clock  and  came  back  at  half-past 
seven.  The  time  was  impressed  upon  her  mind 
because  she  was  keeping  supper  waiting  for  him. 
She  was  a  careful  housekeeper,  as  we've  seen,  so,  no 
doubt,  she  kept  a  watch  on  the  clock  while  she  was 
keeping  the  victuals  and  dishes  warm.  I  think  we 
may  take  it  for  granted  that  she  was  pretty  nearly 
.  j>  It  as  regards  the  time.  He  was  gone  half  an 
hour,  therefore  he  was  not  more  than  a  quarter 
of  an  hour's  walk  from  home — a  mile,  let's  say.  I 
think  we  may  say  that  he  went  straight  to  the  place 
where  he  hid  his  clothes,  and  that  he  came  straight 
home  again  after  he  had  hidden  them ;  it  would  be 
the  natural  thing  for  him  to  do.  So  we  may  feel 
tolerably  sure  that  he  didn't  go  more,  and  not  much 
less,  than  a  mile  from  home." 

Here  Tom  stopped,  and  sat  for  a  long  time  buried 
in  thought  Will  did  not  say  anything,  but  waited 
for  him  to  begin  again.  At  last  Tom  broke  the 
silence. 

"  Now,"  said  he,  "  it  would  be  a  hard  thing  for  us 
to  follow  Moor  with  only  the  mud  on  his  shoes  as 
a.  clue  to  guide  us,  but  to  my  thinking  he  himself 


252  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

gave  us  a  better  hint  than  this,  by  one  word  too 
much  that  he  spoke.  He  told  the  help  girl  that  he 
was  going  to  see  Henry  Sharpley,  and  this  he  told 
her  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  with  hardly  a 
second  thought.  It  isn't  likely  that  he  would  have 
mentioned  Henry  Sharpley's  name  without  Henry 
was  in  his  mind  at  the  time.  If  this  wasn't  so,  why 
should  he  mention  that  special  name?  Now,  he 
was  either  going  to  see  Henry,  as  he  said,  or  he 
was  going  in  the  direction  where  he  knew  Henry 
was  to  be  found. 

"  He  did  not  go  to  see  Henry,  because  it  would 
have  taken  more  than  half  an  hour  to  talk  over 
business  concerning  a  whole  carpet-bag  full  of 
papers,  so  I  think  we  may  take  it  for  grants  rbat 
he  went  in  the  direction  of  Henry  Sharpley's^"  JP.1^. 
Now,  if  we  can  find  that  his  actions  fit  perfectly 
with  this  idea,  we  can  feel  pretty  certain  that  we  are 
right.  Let's  try  to  think  how  we  would  do  if  we 
were  in  Mr.  Moor's  place.  Let's  say  that  I'm  going 
to  hide  these  clothes.  I  have  thought  of  a  place 
not  very  far  distant.  That  place  is  out  of  town, 
but  not  far.  I  quit  the  town  just  beyond  Henry 
Sharpley's  house.  I  say  to  myself,  if  I  can  slip  out 
quietly  and  hide  these  things,  I'll  be  back  in  a  little 
while,  and  I'll  just  mention  that  I  went  out  on  a 
little  matter  of  business.  I  go  down  stairs  with  this 
on  my  mind,  and  come  suddenly  face  to  face  with 
the  help.  She  catches  me  in  the  act  of  going  out 
of  the  house  with  the  carpet-bag  in  my  hand. 
What  will  she  think  of  it?  She  says  something 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  253 

about  supper — a  little  thing  to  speak  of  in  my 
present  state  of  mind.  Without  thinking,  I  speak 
sharply  to  her.  The  next  minute  it  strikes  me 
that  her  suspicions  will  be  increased  by  the  strange- 
ness of  my  speech  and  actions.  I  am  anxious  to 
set  myself  right  with  her,  and,  not  knowing  of  any- 
thing better  to  say  at  the  moment,  I  tell  her  what 
I  had  already  planned  to  do — that  I  was  going 
out  on  business.  In  the  flurry  of  the  moment  I 
say  one  word  too  much.  I  am  going  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Henry  Sharpley's  house  ;  my  mind  is  full  of 
where  I  am  going ;  so,  without  a  second  thought, 
I  tell  her  that  I  am  going  to  see  Henry  Sharpley 
on  business.  Then  it  flashes  across  me  that  the 
girl  will  wonder  what  I  am  doing  with  my  carpet- 
bag at  that  time  of  the  night.  I  can  think  of  no 
other  explanation  to  give  than  that  it  is  full  of 
papers.  Does  all  that  sound  reasonable?  " 

Will  drew  a  deep  breath.  "Reasonable?"  said 
he  ;  "  of  course  it  sounds  reasonable." 

"  Of  course,  I  may  be  all  at  sea  in  what  I  fancy. 
At  the  same  I  may  be  right,  and  it's  worth  having  a 
try  for.  Now,  we'll  take  for  granted  that  Mr.  Moor 
did  go  down  Beaver  street  toward  Sharpley's  house. 
Of  course,  he  wouldn't  go  out  aimlessly  into  the 
night;  he  had  some  place  already  fixed  in  his  mind 
where  to  hide  his  clothes,  and  he  went  straight  to 
that  place  with  as  few  steps  aside  as  possible.  Now, 
it  would  seem  at  first  as  though  he  had  thought 
of  some  place  to  hide  his  clothes  near  Sharpley's 
house  or  the  blacksmith  shop  opposite;  but  two 


254  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

reasons  stand  in  the  way  of  this.  In  the  first 
place,  his  mind  would  be  in  too  much  confusion  to 
think  deliberately  of  any  cunning  plan.  If  he  had 
waited  until  the  next  day,  it  might  have  been  differ- 
ent I  think  he  had  a  place  fixed  in  his  mind  when 
he  came  home ;  he  certainly  doesn't  seem  to  have 
spent  much  time  in  laying  plans.  In  the  second 
place,  he  was  gone  half  an  hour.  It  wouldn't  have 
taken  him  five  minutes  to  walk  to  Sharpley's  and 
back,  and  I  don't  believe  he  would  tarry  anywhere 
in  the  dark  after  he  had  hidden  his  clothes.  Beside 
all  this,  he  told  the  servant  girl  that  he  would  be 
back  inside  of  an  hour.  He  told  her  this  at  the 
moment  of  meeting  her,  and  it  isn't  likely  that  he 
would  have  said  it  if  he  hadn't  a  longish  distance  in 
his  mind  at  the  time.  He  would  have  to  walk 
along  the  street  while  he  was  in  town,  for  he 
wouldn't  go  cutting  across  people's  gardens  and 
climbing  fences.  So  he  wouldn't  leave  the  sidewalk 
till  he  had  come  to  Sharpley's  house  or  the  black- 
smith shop,  which  are  the  last  houses  before  you 
come  to  open  lots.  As  soon  as  he  was  out  of  town, 
he  would  strike  a  straight  line  for  the  place  that  he 
had  in  his  mind — and  now,  let's  see  how  far  he 
went. 

(l  We'll  say  it  took  him  three  minutes  to  walk 
to  Sharpley's  house ;  that  leaves  twelve  minutes  of 
the  quarter  of  an  hour.  Say  it  took  him  four 
minutes  to  hide  his  clothes  when  he  had  come  to 
the  spot  that  he  had  in  his  mind.  The  half  of 
four  is  two ;  that  leaves  ten  minutes  for  him  to 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  255 

walk  after  he  had  left  the  town.  If  he'd  kept  to 
the  road  he  might  have  walked  three  quarters  of  a 
mile  in  that  time  ;  but  he  didn't  do  that,  for  he  got 
his  shoes  muddy  somewhere.  Beside,  it  isn't  likely 
that  he  would  walk  along  the  highroad  at  night 
with  a  carpet  bag  in  his  hand.  It'ld  look  mighty 
strange  to  any  one  who'd  meet  him.  If  he  had  to 
walk  across  lots  and  climb  fences,  he  couldn't  have 
covered  over  half  a  mile  in  ten  minutes ;  nor  is  it 
likely  he  would  walk  less  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile. 
Now,  imagine  a  pair  of  big  compasses.  Open  them 
till  they  measure  a  half  a  mile  from  point  to  point ; 
put  one  point  of  them  on  the  road  between  the 
blacksmith  shop  and  Sharpley's  house  and  draw  a 
circle.  Now  draw  another  circle  of  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  from  point  to  point.  You  now  have  a  belt  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  wide  running  in  a  circle  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  distant  from  the  blacksmith  shop.  If  I've 
argued  the  matter  right,  you'll  find  his  clothes 
hidden  somewhere  in  that  belt." 

Will  heaved  a  deep  sigh.  "  Tom,"  said  he,  "  you 
ought  to  be  the  lawyer,  and  I  the  accused.  You'd 
make  a  better  fist  out  of  my  case  than  I'll  ever  be 
able  to  do  out  of  yours.  I'll  put  Daly  on  the  track 
right  away,  and  see  what  he  makes  of  it." 

"Hold  hard,  Will,"  said  Tom;  "as  we've  gone 
this  far,  we  might  as  well  see  whether  we  can't  go  a 
little  farther.  Let's  see  in  what  kind  of  a  place  Mr. 
Moor  would  be  likely  to  hide  those  clothes.  He'd 
think  of  only  very  simple  plans  in  his  state  of  mind, 
I  take  it.  He  might  bury  them,  or  burn  them,  or 


2$6  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

sink  them  in  the  water  somewhere.  He  didn't 
bury  them,  for  he  took  no  tools  with  him,  and  he 
couldn't  very  well  have  done  it  without.  Woolen 
clothes,  such  as  a  man  wears  at  this  time  of  the 
year,  don't  burn  very  easily,  and  he'd  have  to  go  a 
long  distance  before  he  dared  build  a  fire,  and,  be- 
side, he  hadn't  time  to  do  it  in  the  half  of  an  hour 
that  he  was  gone.  Of  the  three  the  most  likely 
thing  for  him  to  do  would  be  to  throw  his  clothes 
in  the  water.  Another  point  is  that  his  shoes  were 
muddy,  and  so  he  must  have  been  where  it  was  wet. 
We  have  seen  that  the  place  he  hid  his  clothes  was 
about  a  half  a  mile  out  of  town,  and  that  it  was  a 
place  such  as  would  occur  to  him  at  this  time." 
Tom  stopped  abruptly,  and  rose  to  his  feet. 
"  Will,"  cried  he,  "  can't  you  guess  where  he  sunk 
his  clothes?" 

"Tom — you — you  mean  the  old  quarry,  don't 
you?" 

Tom  nodded  his  head.  Will  sat  looking  at  him 
for  a  time,  without  speaking. 

"  Will,"  said  Tom,  presently,  "  that  place  was  in 
my  mind  almost  from  the  very  first.  I  wasn't 
arguing  to  find  it,  but  to  prove  to  myself  that  I  was 
right.  Now,  the  whole  thing  amounts  to  this — if 
v/e  drag  the  quarry,  and  find  the  clothes  there,  I've 
made  a  good  guess." 

"  You  have,  indeed — a  good  enough  guess  to  get 
your  neck  out  of  the  halter.  I'll  say  nothing  more; 
only  this — I  didn't  think  that  you  had  so  much  in 
you!" 


CHAPTER   XX. 

AND  now  I  find  the  story  of  Tom  Granger's 
adventures  drawing  rapidly  to  a  close.  I 
have  sometimes  wondered  whether  all  happenings, 
such  as  are  usually  allotted  to  a  man's  life,  were  not 
crowded  into  this  one  year  and  a  half,  for  since  that 
time  it  has  been  even  and  uneventful,  excepting  as 
to  such  small  things  as  occur  in  our  quiet  Quaker 
neighborhood. 

But,  these  adventures  were  not  to  close  without 
one  more  thing  happening  that  made  a  stir;  not  only 
in  Eastcaster,  but  throughout  the  whole  country. 
No  doubt,  if  you  were  to  pick  up  a  newspaper  of 
the  fall  and  winter  of  that  year,  no  matter  where 
that  paper  was  printed,  you  would  see  some  mention 
made  of  all  these  things. 

However,  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  that ;  I  have 
only  to  tell  my  own  story,  or  the  balance  of  it  as 
quickly  as  possible,  for  it  has  grown  to  a  huge 
length  beneath  my  hands  as  I  have  worked  upon  it, 
so  much,  so  that  I  fear  few  will  have  patience  to 
read  it  through  to  the  end. 

I  think  that  it  was  about  noon  of  the  next  day 
that  a  note  was  brought  to  Tom.  It  was  in  Will's 

17  257 


258  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

handwriting,  and  was   only  of  one  line.      This  is 
what  it  said: 

"  Dragged  the  quarry  this  morning.     Clothes  found. 

"W.  W.  G." 

Heretofore,  Tom  had  been  surprised  at  his  own 
endurance.  I  think  that  he  was  braced  more  tensely 
than  he  had  any  idea  of,  and  that  now  came  the 
reaction  that  is  sure  to  follow  overtaxing  of  the 
powers.  After  he  had  read  the  note,  and  had  seen 
how  truly  his  surmises  had  been  fulfilled,  he  grew 
weak  and  nervous.  Every  now  and  then  a  spell  of 
trembling  would  pass  over  him,  and  at  last  he  flung 
himself  down  upon  the  cot,  and  buried  his  face  in 
the  pillow.  "  I'd  better  have  died  !  I'd  better  have 
died  !"  he  kept  repeating  to  himself;  for,  it  seemed 
to  him,  as  though  his  coming  to  Eastcaster  had 
brought  misery  upon  every  one  with  whom  he  had 
to  do.  But  for  him  Isaac  would  have  been  alive  at 
this  time,  and  Mr.  Moor  would  never  have  had  the 
burthen  of  such  a  great  crime  upon  his  soul.  At 
last  he  fell  into  a  nervous  sleep,  though,  in  truth,  he 
scarcely  knew  whether  it  was  sleep  or  not,  for  he 
seemed  to  be  conscious  of  everything  that  was 
around  him.  Between  twelve  and  one  o'clock  his 
course  prison  fare  was  brought  in  to  him.  He 
heard  the  turnkey  open  the  door,  lay  the  platter  of 
victuals  on  the  table,  and  then  go  out  again,  but  he 
heard  it  as  though  it  were  all  a  part  of  the  troubled 
dreams  that  were  upon  him.  Through  his  half 
sleep  he  heard  the  court-house  bell  strike  one,  and 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  259 

two,  and  three  and  four  o'clock,  and  still  he  lay 
there.  Suddenly  there  were  footsteps  in  the  corri- 
dor, a  rattle  of  the  key  in  the  lock,  and  then  some 
one  burst  into  the  room.  Tom  roused  himself  and 
sat  up — it  was  Will  Gaines.  Tom  began  to  tremble, 
for  there  was  a  very  strange  look  in  Will's  face. 
He  flung  himself  down  on  the  chair,  and  wiped  his 
brow,  which  was  wet  with  sweat. 

"  Tom,"  said  he,  at  last,  in  a  low,  solemn  voice, 
"  what  do  you  think's  happened  ?" 

Tom  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  held  out  both  hands, 
as  though  to  defend  himself.  "  Oh,  Will,  Will  I" 
cried  he,  hoarsely ;  "  don't  tell  me  any  more !  I 
can't  bear  any  more  ! " 

"  But  you  must  hear  this,"  said  Will. 

Tom  sat  down  upon  his  cot  again.  "  Well,"  said 
he,  at  last,  in  a  dull  voice;  "  tell  me,  if  you  must." 

"  Edmund  Moor  has  committed  suicide." 

Tom  looked  fixedly  at  Will,  and  it  seemed  as 
though  he  was  a  long  distance  away.  The  room 
appeared  to  lengthen  out  on  all  sides  of  him.  Then 
there  was  a  sound  of  rushing  and  roaring  in  his 
ears,  and  a  dark  cloud  seemed  to  rise  and  shut  in 
everything  from  his  sight.  He  heard  Will's  voice 
calling  to  him,  as  though  from  afar — "  Tom,  Tom, 
are  you  sick  ?" 

He  tried  to  shape  the  words,  but  it  seemed  as 
though  his  lips  had  no  power  to  move.  He  felt 
Will's  arms  around  him ;  there  was  a  humming  in 
his  ears,  and  a  tingling  at  his  finger  tips,  and  then 
the  dark  cloud  passed  away,  and  he  saw  everything. 


260  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

"  I'm  better  now,"  said  he,  and  then  he  sat  upe 
Will  was  standing  in  front  of  him,  holding  a  tum- 
bler of  water.  He  reached  out  and  took  the  glass, 
and  drained  it  at  a  swallow,  and  it  seemed  to  bring 
fresh  life  to  him. 

"  I  guess  I'd  better  not  tell  you  any  more,"  said 
Will. 

"  No,  I'll  hear  all  now,"  said  Tom  ;  "  the  worst's 
over."  Then,  after  a  pause,  "  When  did  it  happen  ?  " 

"About  a  couple  of  hours  ago." 

"  Did  he — did  he — "  Tom  stopped  and  looked 
at  Will. 

"  He  left  a  confession,"  said  Will. 

"  Tell  me  all  about  it,"  said  Tom. 

"  Well,  by  noon  I  had  got  together  all  the  evi- 
dence I  had  at  hand,  and  about  one  o'clock  I  went 
up  to  swear  out  a  warrant  for  Moor's  arrest,  at  the 
squire's.  The  squire  wasn't  in,  and  I  waited  about 
half  an  hour.  Then  I  slipped  down  to  the  office,  to 
see  what  had  become  of  Daly.  He  had  promised 
to  come  up  to  the  squire's  and  meet  me  at  one 
o'clock,  and  here  it  was  half-past  one,  and  no  signs 
of  him.  He  had  left  me  at  half-past  twelve,  saying 
that  he  was  going  to  get  dinner,  and  that  he  would 
come  over  as  soon  as  he  had  done.  I  was  afraid 
that  something  was  wrong,  for  I  had  a  notion  that 
he  had  been  drinking  this  morning.  However,  I 
thought  it  just  possible  that  he  might  be  at  the 
office.  But  there  was  no  signs  of  him,  so  I  went 
out  again  and  stood  on  the  sidewalk,  looking  for 
him  up  and  down  the  street.  Who  should  come 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  261 

along,  but  Mr.  Moor.  He  stopped,  and  began 
talking  to  me,  and  I  couldn't  help  thinking  that  he 
suspected  something,  though,  of  course,  he  didn't. 
I  can't  tell  you  how  I  felt,  Tom,  to  have  that  fellow 
talking  to  me  about  little  trivial  things,  joking  all 
the  time,  as  he  was  given  to  doing.  I  don't  know 
how  I  answered,  but  I  guess  that  it  was  all  at 
random.  Just  then  I  saw  Daly  come  out  of  the 
Crown  and  Angel,  across  the  street.  He  staggered 
as  he  came  down  the  steps,  and  stood  on  the  side- 
walk, looking  all  around  him.  I  saw  that  he  was 
as  drunk  as  a  lord,  and  was  afraid  that  nothing 
could  be  done  at  the  squire's  that  day.  As  luck 
would  have  it,  he  caught  sight  of  Mr.  Moor  talking 
to  me,  and  he  came  right  across  the  street  to  where 
we  were,  staggering  like  a  brute.  As  soon  as  he 
came  to  us  he  caught  hold  of  Mr.  Moor's  hand  and 
began  shaking  it.  Mr.  Moor  tried  to  pass  it  off  as 
a  joke,  for  he  saw  how  drunk  the  fellow  was.  But 
I  was  on  pins  and  needles  all  the  time,  I  can  tell 
you. 

"  '  What  do  you  mean,  sir  ? '  said  I ;  '  go  into  the 
office.' 

"  '  You  be  d— d  ! '  was  all  that  the  fellow  said  to 
me.  Then  he  turned  to  Moor.  '  Mr.  Moor,'  says 
he,  '  you're  a  good  feller — a  good  feller !  I'm  d — d 
sorry  for  what  you  did,  for  you're  a  good  feller.  I 
know  all  about  it  (here  he  winked),  but,  between 
you  and  me,  I  don't  care  a  d — n.' 

"  There  wasn't  a  shade  of  color  in  Moor's  face. 
'  What  do  you  mean,  you  scoundrel  ? '  said  he. 


262  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

"  Daly  straightened  himself  up  with  all  the  dig- 
nity that  he  could  manage.  ' Scoundrel,  eh?'  said 
he.  '  Oh  !  all  right !  I'm  a  scoundrel,  am  I  ?  We'll 
fix  you  for  that ;  won't  we,  Mr.  Gaines  ?  I  reckon 
you  thought  no  one'ld  find  them  old  clo's  o'  yourn, 
didn't  you?' 

"  I  never  saw  such  a  look  come  over  any  man's 
face  in  all  my  life,  as  came  over  Moor's.  He  went 
staggering  back,  as  though  he  had  been  shot.  I 
turned  on  the  scoundrel,  hardly  knowing  what  I 
did,  I  was  in  such  a  towering  rage.  I  left  fly  at 
him,  and  knocked  him  nearly  into  the  middle  of  the 
street.  He  jumped  up  and  ran  at  me,  swearing  like 
a  soldier,  and  as  soon  as  he  had  come  within 
distance,  I  left  fly  another  blow,  and  down  he  went 
again,  for  he  was  too  drunk  to  guard  himself.  By 
this  time  a  crowd  had  gathered,  running  from  all 
directions.  Some  of  them  caught  hold  of  Daly 
and  held  him,  and  he  stood  there  cursing  and 
swearing  as  I  never  heard  a  man  curse  and  swear 
before.  When  I  had  time  to  look  around  again,  I 
saw  that  Moor  had  gone.  I  asked  Jerry  White, 
who  was  standing  near, — if  he  had  seen  him,  and  he 
said  yes;  that  he  had  caught  sight  of  him  running 
down  Market  street,  as  though  he  was  going  home. 
By  this  time  there  was  a  crowd  around  me,  all 
wanting  to  know  what  was  the  matter,  and  I  told 
them  in  as  few  words  as  I  could.  A  lot  of  them 
ran  down  to  Beaver  street,  which  suited  me  very 
well,  for  they  would  keep  Moor  in  sight  if  he  were 
to  try  to  get  away.  Daly  was  washing  the  blood 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  263 

from  his  face  in  the  trough  before  the  Crown  and 
Angel,  and  what  with  the  licking  and  the  pump 
water,  he  was  pretty  sober  by  this  time.  He  was 
very  sorry  at  what  had  happened,  and  didn't  seem 
to  bear  me  any  grudge.  I  waited  till  he  had  made 
himself  as  decent  looking  as  he  could,  and  then 
went  up  to  the  squire's  with  him,  though  he  had  a 
bad  eye  where  I  had  struck  him.  We  found  the 
squire,  and  he  gave  me  the  warrant  against  Moor. 
I  had  a  hard  time  to  find  the  sheriff,  but  I  got  him 
at  last.  This  was  about  two  o'clock. 

"  He  and  I  went  down  to  Beaver  street  together. 
There  was  a  great  crowd  around  Moor's  house  by 
this  time,  and  the  house  itself  was  shut  up  as 
though  no  one  was  in  it.  The  sheriff  tried  the 
office  door,  but  found  it  locked.  Then  he  went  to 
the  house  door,  and  knocked  a  long  while  before 
he  could  get  any  answer,  but  at  last  the  servant  girl 
came.  She  seemed  very  much  frightened  at  all  the 
crowd  and  excitement,  but  she  told  us  that  Mr. 
Moor  had  come  in  about  half  an  hour  before,  and 
had  not  gone  out  again.  The  sheriff  told  her  that 
he  had  a  warrant  for  Mr.  Moor's  arrest,  and  asked 
her  to  show  him  into  the  office.  The  servant  led 
us  across  the  parlor  to  the  door  that  opens  into  the 
office  from  the  house. 

"  The  sheriff  knocked  at  the  door,  calling;  '  Mr. 
Moor !  Mr.  Moor !  You  might  as  well  let  us  in  ! 
If  you  don't  let  us  in,  I'll  have  to  force  the  door  ! ' 
But  no  one  answered  him.  By  that  time  the  parlor 
was  pretty  full  of  men,  who  had  followed  us  in 


264  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

from  the  street.  Sheriff  Mathers  shook  at  the 
door,  and  knocked  for  some  time,  calling  to  Moor 
to  open  it,  but  getting  no  answer.  After  a  while,  he 
peeped  through  the  key  hole.  I  asked  him  whether 
he  could  see  anything  of  Moor;  he  said  yes — he 
was  standing  in  the  corner.  Then  I  advised  him  to 
force  the  door,  and  he  did  so,  putting  his  shoulder 
to  it.  He  had  to  push  pretty  hard,  so  that  when 
the  door  broke  open,  he  ran  into  the  room,  nearly 
falling  down.  He  gave  a  cry  and  ran  out  against 
Johnny  Black,  who  was  just  going  in.  I  didn't  go 
into  the  room,  but  I  could  see  over  Black's  shoulder 
that  Moor  was  hanging  from  a  rope  that  was  tied  to 
a  large  hook  in  the  corner  of  the  room.  He  left  a 
few  lines  lying  on  his  office  desk,  confessing  that  it 
was  he  who  murdered  Isaac  Naylor,  and  that  he 
was  tired  of  the  misery  of  living.  I  can't  remember 
them  exactly,  but  they  were  read  before  the  coro- 
ner's jury. 

"As  soon  as  I  saw  how  matters  had  turned  out,  I 
hunted  up  Judge  West.  He  went  down  with  me  to 
the  squire's,  without  losing  a  moment,  for  he  said 
that  no  innocent  man  should  be  kept  in  gaol  longer 
than  need  be.  It  took  about  an  hour  to  get  the 
needful  witnesses  together.  As  soon  as  the  matter 
was  settled  the  judge  gave  the  release,  and — " 

Here  Will  stopped  abruptly.  He  stood  listening, 
and  presently  Tom  heard  a  scuffling  of  feet  out  in  the 
corridor.  The  door  was  opened,  and  his  father  and 
his  brothers,  John  and  William,  came  into  the  cell. 

"  Are  you  ready  now  ?  "  said  Will. 


WITHIN  THE  CAPES.  265 

"Yes,"  said  Tom's  father;  "I  borrowed  Philip 
Winterapple's  gig.  It's  waiting  at  the  door." 

"Are  you  ready  to  go,  Tom  ?" 

"  Ready  to  go  where  ?  "  said  Tom,  looking  about 
him  in  a  dazed  way. 

"  Ready  to  go  home." 

In  this  simple  manner,  and  with  these  few  words 
was  his  bitter  trouble  brought  to  a  close. 

Well,  that  is  all  the  yarn  concerning  Tom  Gran- 
ger that  need  be  told.  The  troubles  that  had 
followed  him  in  the  year  and  a  half  past  had  been 
bitter  indeed,  but  they  had  all  gone  by  now.  I  am 
not  going  to  tell  you  how  he  married,  and  how  he 
lived  happily,  and  all  that  sort  of  matter.  Surely, 
such  a  home  as  I  see  around  me,  and  such  a  crowd 
of  loving  faces  as  gather  about  me  at  times,  child- 
ren, grand-children,  and  three  great-grand-children, 
bespeak  a  life  not  all  unhappy  of  its  kind. 

Even  yet,  beside  me  is  that  one  whose  face, 
always  sweet,  now  shines  with  a  light  that  comes 
not  of  this  life,  but  of  the  life  beyond.  I  do  thank 
the  Giver  of  all  good  things  that  He  has  permitted 
us  to  walk  the  path  of  life  hand-in-hand  together 
for  this  long  time.  A  day  or  two  now,  and  one  of 
us  may  go — I  care  not  which  it  be,  for  the  other 
will  not  be  long  in  tarrying. 

What  matters  then  all  these  troubles  of  which  I 
have  been  telling  you  !  Such  troubles,  bitter  and 
keen  at  the  time,  are  but  as  a  breath  on  the  glass  of 
life,  that  fade  away,  and  are  gone  long  before  that 
glass  itself  is  shivered. 


266  WITHIN  THE  CAPES. 

So,  as  I  say,  these  sorrows  and  griefs  that  were 
once  so  bitter  to  me,  stir  me  not  at  this  day,  saving 
now  and  then,  while,  as  I  sat  writing  these  lines,  a 
chord  of  memory  did  ring  occasionally  to  the 
touch.  Yes;  all  is  gone  by — happiness  and  grief, 
joy  and  suffering,  and  I  am  like  a  ship,  one  time 
battered  and  buffeted  with  the  bitter  storms  of 
trouble  and  despair,  but  now,  full  freighted  with  my 
cargo  of  years,  safe  at  anchor  in  my  peaceful  haven 
Within  the  Capes. 


THE   END. 


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